


Chronicles of a dead man

by pixiedurango



Series: The Arya Trevelyan Files [17]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Anger, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blackwall Spoilers, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Difficult Decisions, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Love, Love Triangles, No Threesome, Revelations, Sweet Moments, Talking, True Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-20 10:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 40,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4784594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixiedurango/pseuds/pixiedurango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finally the Revelations-Fic for my OTP (OT3) Blackwall x Arya Trevelyan x Cullen Rutherford).</p><p>The whole thing consists basically of flashbacks and some weird forth and back-jumping in time. I tried to figure out a chapter title system that may be usefull not to get lost.<br/>All the events (Starting with the barn-fuck, ending with the judgement) will be mentioned but probably not always when expected.<br/>It wil explore Blackwalls/Rainiers prison time as much Arya and Cullen who will finally come closer but maybe also not in the way that's expected.</p><p>Arya has love for both men and they both knew and accepted that. She is in a relationship with Blackwall but when he is leaving her with no real explanation, things suddenly seem to be different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. now - Val Royeaux - prison

** **

 

**now - Val Royeaux - prison**

All had gone numb. He’d been grateful for that if he’d cared. He sat on the floor. On the dirty rushes for there was no other place to sit. His broad back, scantily covered with the remains of what had once been a jacket, leaned against the humid and musty prison wall. Arms slung around his shins, his forehead rested on his knees. Barely moving and afterwards always returning to this position. He had lost any kind of feeling for what must have been days now. But at least a last remaining inner spark of dignity had spared him from sitting in his own waste and some primal reflexes still made him protect the few pieces of stale bread and the cracked water bowl from the daring rats which became braver and braver. He did not flinch anymore when they pierced their razor sharp teeth in his fingers. But he did not kill them either. Just churned his hand until the shrieking rodent flew off, usually by leaving some cuts that slowly began to inflammate now. The pulsing ache in his fingers was something on the edge of his consciousness at times when the other pains faded. They rarely did.  _They_  added on. Every single time they took him into interrogation. What they called interrogation was just a made up reason to bash him. There were no more information needed. He had given them everything. They continued. He did not care. Vaguely comprehending, that - if one day all his physical pain would be gone - the real hurt would kill him.

He avoided to think back. Or into the future. Stayed were he was, just existing in the moment. Not even hoping or wishing for a quick end. He simply had stopped caring. He deserved no hope. Never had.

But the memories came uninvited.

From time to time his body and mind failed him and he fell into a dozing sleep that he did not want to come because he would see her face again. See her sleep. A smile on her face. Like a cat after having a whole bowl of cream. This had been always his association to this particular smile. Messy black hair spread over the bearhide. The love marks his hands, lips and teeth has left on her white skin are even to see in the hazy light that is telling the morning will rise soon.

The night is always the coldest before dawn and so the last thing he does before he leaves for good is to pull the blanket back up so she would not freeze. The last view he has on her gets blurry from tears he does himself not allow to be cried. Instead he swallows them down and turns his back on her.

Sometimes his own moans of pain and loss woke him up at this point to spend the next hours trying to push away her peaceful face from his mind. And this were only the better dreams.

Once he had thought that this pictures of her, the memories of their last time making love, would be his last threshold to hold onto and to ease the pain. But he had been so wrong. The dreams of her made it worse. Her eyes on him the moment she comes undone. Sparkling violet eyes full of unconditional love. Her lips groaning a name that was not his anymore - that had never been his. It haunted him. Added more guilt onto the already existing pile of abominations that were his decisions and actions.

Sometimes he couldn’t wake up and the dream continued. It was always the same when her peaceful face slowly became ghastly, all the beauty changes into dreadful grimaces, which seem to fade and finally change into a kaleidoscope of screaming dying faces of those innocent women and children of another past. Staring at him with dead eyes and the rotten flesh of their fingers is pointing at him, yelling _„guilty!“_ and _„why?“_ and _„murderer!“_ until the cacophony in his head makes him jump from this unresting sleep and this are the moments he wishes he could cry just to do anything.

This was why he didn’t want to fall asleep.

 


	2. 30 days before la grâce de la veuve  – Skyhold – war room

“I do not fucking care if you thought you do me something good, Nightingale!” a thunderstorm had rioted over Skyhold for almost a whole day and most of the night. And now, within the keep, Arya Trevelyan was causing havoc at the war table during their early morning meeting one day after the mysterious disappearance of Warden Blackwall. “You _knew_ that there was something going on with Blackwall and his past, and it had been your Maker forsaken _duty_ to get me informed so I could deal with it!”

“Would you even have listened, _your worship_?” Leliana gave back in a deadly calm tone and for a moment it looked like as if the two women were about to engage into a physical fight.

“What makes you think I would not have, _Spymaster_? What do you try to imply here? I asked you more than once about things you might know about him and his past and possible motives or threats to the Inquisition. And all I got was apparently bullshit to lull me into a false sense of security. How fucking _dare_ you holding back information from me! Do you really think that I let anybody fuck me my brains out? If you really believe that, Nightingale, you have a lot of false pretences about me. And _that_ would not speak for your qualities as a Spymaster. Not even knowing how to deal with your superiors!” Aryas violet eyes shot flashes onto Leliana who just fell silent with a hard face, her arms crossed in a defiant gesture in front of her chest.

“Any more unpleasant confessions, _advisors_?” Arya reeled over to Cullen and Josephine who stood there petrified, not able to interfere into the clash they just witnessed. “Things I should have known but you _accidentally_ forgot to tell me?”

Silence.

Arya grabbed the parchments holding the vague hint on an execution in Val Royeaux that seemingly had caught the interest of Blackwall and the reports on the Warden himself that Leliana had held back from her and turned to leave. Before she was out of the door she snapped over her shoulder:

“Cullen, I expect you ready for departure to Val Royeaux tomorrow by dawn. Light travel, only horses and guards. Josephine, you decide. If you can bear a week of hard ride on a horseback you may join. In any other case, take Dorian, Sera and Cole and enough guards to follow us with a carriage as fast as you can. _You_ , Leliana.” Her finger pointed onto the spymaster. “You will continue your work until we are back. Every action you take while I’m absent is going over to both, The Iron Bull and Varric. They will provide me with reports on what is going on with the spy network of the Inquisition while I deal with the mess in Val Royeaux. Once I’m back I’ll decide to take further actions. Cassandra is in charge as steward of Skyhold as usual! And one last thing to all of you as a warning: Never! Ever! Underestimate Arya Trevelyan”

And with that she was gone.


	3. 29 days before la grâce de la veuve  – Skyhold by dawn – at the gates

She found Cullen and a bunch of well armed guards ready at the gates.

“Josephine will be on our tail with a carriage but the travel will cost her about 2 or 3 days more time. Dorian, Sera and Cole will be with her.” He reported when she arrived with her nervous black Antivan mare. She was in full armor and carried Tempest her preferred staff. “Arya…” Cullens voice went low and got a pleading undertone. “Are you sure? Leaving in such a haste and with nothing more than vague hints to some execution in Val Royeaux? Let Lel…” he almost choked on that name when he caught the look she gave him.

“We ride. _Now_!” Waiting seemed no option. “We need time in Val Royeaux for more investigations and maybe finding him there. This Mornay execution is all we have so I will go for it.”

“Is _he_ worth all this?” the moment he said it, Cullen bit his tongue when he saw her jumping just from the words. 

She lead her horse closer to his and hissed: “Let me tell you something, Cullen. Right now I do not fucking care about politics and strategies and rifts and all the other crap we have to deal with. I even do not care that he fucked me in the hayloft before he sneaked out like a coward instead of talking to me that there might be some trouble ahead. What I  _do_ care about, is that one of my best soldiers and part of my fucking  _family_ is seemingly so deep into shit that he possibly need some help. Think of him what you want, but he would never have left like he did if he was not drowning into some Maker forsaken crap. I would have gone like this for every single one of you, so spare me your judgmental bullshit until we know all the facts!”

Cullen swallowed hard but nodded. He was not sure if she really would have gone after every other member of the Inquisition - him included - with the same enthusiasm but she was the Inquisitor and for that he felt it was his duty to be with her and stand behind her and her decisions.

He felt not very comfortable being assigned with her all alone to be on the week long travel to Val Royeaux but at the same time it gave him an completely inappropriate sting of excitement. The first time ever they would be alone for such a long time. Day and night. He called himself back to order. It was wrong to think this way. She was devastated because the man she loved (probably more than she loved him) had suddenly disappeared. Cullen was no envious man and though he never had liked the fact that Arya had committed herself to the Warden rather than to him, he never would wish for something like this to happen. Not for Arya and for sure not for the good of the Inquisition.

They were ready now to take their leave and soon it came clear that Arya had not exaggerated by saying she intended to ride hard.

For the next hours there was silence and Cullen let her be. Still furious and brooding not finding answers about how and why this all had happened. Maybe she would speak later. He would be there for her, no matter what.

 


	4. now - Val Royeaux - prison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A word of content warning here because it is possible male-rape mentioned as a part of the angst that is building the dynamics of this chapter.

Something was breaking the routine. If he’d cared he’d been suspicious and on guard. The beginning had been the same. Hands in the dark pulling him up, making him walk, dragging him when his legs failed him. Passing the endless row of dark cells. Then right and down the long stairs. He usually did not walk them entirely but stumbled them down. Fell. Only basic instincts of survival made him hold his shackled hands up to protect his head. Finally reaching the end of the stairs he laid still. Maybe if they believed he’d finally broke his neck by falling down the stairs they would leave him to die here. But they never did.

Coming back, heels clacking on the stairs coming closer, dragging him up. Pulling him further to the last room on the right.

It was dark and reeking from dirt and blood and fear like every other room in this prison. A fireplace spending an unresting light that hurt his eyes after hours of darkness.

“Déshabille-toi!” the demanding voice addressed him in Orlesian, but he had not even realized that it was the language of his past. Nor did he follow the order. It was pointless anyway. How would he undress himself with shackled ankles and wrists? It was just one of those orders a prisoner just cannot follow but would be punished for defying anyway. He had been there. In another life. On the other side of this room. Where the fire was spending light and warmth. He knew how it went after they take off ones clothes and he knew it was inevitable.

He’d been expecting  _this_ to come sooner or later. He would have been naïve if he’d thought he would spend his last days on this world unraped and unharmed. This was Orlais and he was Thom Rainier, it would be a feast for them to pay him back what in their opinion he deserved. And they were probably right. 

But he did not move a finger to help them. The last few pieces of dignity that were left in this numb hull of his former self made him remain motionless. They would do what they pleased anyway. But they would have to  _take_ it for he would not  _give_ shit.

And there they were. He heard fabric rip over a dull blade. He had thought it would make no difference lying naked on the floor but now he experienced that even the clammiest and dirtiest rags had given some slight protection against the wet and cold stone underneath him. Now this little pieces of protection were gone, too and his worn out and tormented body was shivering from the cold. He instinctively curled himself into a fetal position and waited in agony.

The ice cold water hit him unexpected and he jumped out of old reflexes with something that almost sounded like one of his war cries. The next torrent that hit him was not so much a surprise anymore and when he finally realized that they tried to clean him up, he fell back into his passiveness and tried to clear his mind from any thoughts.

“Debout!*” Again the demanding voice from the other side of the room. Again he did not make a single move and they finally came to drag him up, accompanied with kicks and punches for nothing. He did not bridle. It was useless. He was done fighting.

The scrubbing brush that was tearing apart his skin and the tangy soap they were using on him made him almost vomit but since there was nothing in his stomach to give away he just retched a few times without actually throwing up. 

He let them finish their work and when they released the shackles there was a little spark deep within that yelled:  _‘Now! Fight!’_ But he didn’t move. He was, were he belonged and escaping was no option anymore. He was done fleeing and hiding. He was there to face his destiny. And the Maker. Soon. He hoped.

He wondered what this was all about when they threw a pile of simple but clean clothes on him. When the voice spoke again, he suddenly realized what was going to come. It hit him like a hammer and he curled up again moaning horrified, praying to the Maker to have mercy and end his suffer.

“T’es un sacré veinard, Rainier.” The voice stated with a gross undertone. “You will have the honor to serve some nobility before you will be allowed to go to the gallows, mon ami! I’m sure you know how this goes and what to expect from _la grâce de la veuve_. So put on your new clothes, veinard, and await your _Madame_ for the night. And better don’t disappoint her, I would not be very happy to pay the old hag back all the gold she was willing to pay to put her hands on Thom Rainier the traitor before he will face the Maker. So better leave her satisfied. I do not think this a such a hard task for a _skilled_ man like you.”

This was probably the worst thing could happen while imprisoned in Val Royeaux. Everyone knew but no one dared to talk about it:  _la grâce de la veuve -_ Orlesian widows buying themselves some time with prisoners to outlive their perversions and rotten fantasies. He was terrified. From all tortures this was the one that really put some fear into him. Too much of long forgotten pain was lingering deep within and he knew those women well enough to be scared to death right now. A bunch of soldiers would have raped him fast and violent but at least they would be done after they were done. Those noble bitches on the other hand… Impossible to say, what they were up to.

As if the dark linen pants and the scratchy tunic were his armor, he managed to drag himself into the clothes so he would not be exposed to the eyes of a stranger. She would take this last piece of dignity away from him anyway but as long as he could keep it, he was willing to hold onto it with his bare hands and the remaining pieces of will he was able to find deep within.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Translations from “Orlesian” - special thanks to the sweet and wonderful reinedesglacesalavanille - (7 years French in school were not able to teach me the real important things in life) :
> 
> Déshabille-toi! - Undress!  
> Debout! - Get up!  
> T’es un sacré veinard, Rainier. - You are a lucky bastard, Rainier.  
> la grâce de la veuve - the widow’s favor (more a metaphoric thing, I think it gets clear in the context)


	5. 28 days before la grâce de la veuve  - on the road to Val Royeaux - the desperation of the pursuers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fluffy chapter about Cullen and Arya on their way to Val Royeaux. No warnings necessary because beside an awkward morning boner there is nothing to be warned about.

“Arya, make up your mind. It’s getting dark, the path is trappy and the mounts need rest. _You_ need rest!” Cullen tried to talk some reason into her stubborn mind. And she finally gave in after finding excuse after excuse to continue the ride. She steadied her mare and finally gave sign.

“Camp! You all unmount! Find the horses some water and a place to graze. Grab something to eat for yourself and shift guards every two hours. We’ll get back in the saddle by dawn!” For the next hour she made herself busy by lending a hand everywhere until her tent was ready. Cullen had hurried around himself, making himself useful but never missed where she was. Now, that he had settled himself at the campfire he still watched her with burning eyes. Not sure what he was waiting for. A look? A sign? A word? But no matter what, he got nothing. And when she retreated without a word his heart sank and he called himself an idiot. What had he expected? Blackwall disappears without goodbye and she comes running straight into his arms? This was not how it worked. And to be honest it was not the way he wanted it, anyway.

Cullen sighed and headed to his own tent, hopefully to find the rest they all needed so much. He put off his boots and armor and most of the warming underclothes and slipped into his bedroll just wearing his breeches. He preferred to stay with at least some decent clothing for the night in case of an ambush so he would not be forced to get into brawl just with his smalls on. He was tired and flustered at the same time and when he fell asleep he found himself within some strange dreams in which Arya seemed to be yelling at him and kissing him at the same time, swirling all around him in violet veils of mist. It was disturbing but not in the way his usual nightmares haunted him.

When his trained subconsciousness sensed a motion at the flaps, he instantly woke and grabbed his sword for defense.

“Shhhh…” Her voice. A slight touch, her hand on his sword-arm, keeping him from striking a blow.

“Arya, what…” he managed to whisper but she put a finger on his lips.

“Please, Cullen. I tried, but I cannot be alone.” She almost begged.

His hand rose up to her face and he felt it hot and wet from tears. He swallowed. Wanted to say so many things but couldn’t. She did not need him to be her man or lover tonight but a friend and he wrapped his arms around her to hold. And finally, after rage and fury, pretending she had everything under control - finally she broke down. Arya Trevelyan, the woman he had loved so desperately from the day they met, was lying in his arms and cried over another man. Cullen was almost about to laugh about the cruel irony of this situation but it stuck in his throat and almost choked him, like all the words he wanted to say. He could have sent her back into her own tent, letting her deal with it by herself but this was not him. He cared for her and he always had kind of accepted to get involved deeper into this weird triangle thing. 

He suddenly remembered a talk between him and Blackwall, when the Warden had basically asked him to take care for her in case something would ever happen to him. Cullen remembered now, that there had been some strange undertones during the talk and he wondered if Blackwall ever had seen something like this coming. He hoped eventually there would be an opportunity to ask. In the meantime he would be there for her and now he would just hold her in his arms, letting her cry. After a long time of silence and silent tears they fell into a light sleep.

When they woke again it was still some time before they would have to get up. Arya was disoriented at first, confused when the body she touched in her doze was not the one she was used to. And Cullen, torn between the guilt of feeling joy to be finally able to wake up with her and the slight disappointment, when she flinched the moment she knew where she was and that it was him lying next to her.

Her sleepy caresses had felt so good and part of him wished to have more of it. Her hands on his chest, sliding down his stomach down to his waistband and beyond where the usual morning erection was a lot more demanding than usual. But then she jumped, suddenly fully awake, stuttering some words, trying hastily to escape from his bedroll.

“I’m sorry, Cullen.” She tried to excuse herself but he softly put a hand on her arm.

“It’s all good, Arya. Relax. No need to run. I’m here for you as you have been here for me, when I needed a friend. And let’s be honest,” he managed to give her a little smile. “Beside this morning thing, it’s not the first time ever you find me aroused when I’m close to you.”

She sank back down and he wrapped his arms around her once more. They were quiet for a while and he already feared that she was crying again but then she spoke. Spoke with a small and hoarse voice but not in tears anymore. “He left a note.” She told him. He already knew that. They all had seen the message and he also had noticed how painful it had been to her to see that this last private note had to go to each and every hand in order to find a possible meaning or a clue regarding Blackwalls disappearance.

“I know. Does not say much. And without the hints on that execution in Val Royeaux he had left so careless where they could be found by anyone who was searching, we would not even have an idea where to go.” Cullen held her even closer for a moment and could not resist placing a soft kiss on her hair. “I promise you, Arya, with the resources of the Inquisition we will be able to track him down. If he needs help, we will help him. You know how hard this is for me but I know how dear Blackwall is for you. If there is just the slightest chance to bring him back, I’ll do that for you.” It was shortly before dawn now and it had already begun to get lighter so he could see her face almost clear in front of him when she finally looked up to meet his eyes. She still could not reply but he managed to give her an encouraging smile and a nod. “I’m with you Inquisitor, no matter what. Because I love you.” She already opened her mouth to reply something but now it was he putting a finger on her lips. “Don’t! Don’t say anything Arya. Just leave it like that, can you do this?” his voice was soft and gentle and she only nodded. “Good then. Now hush to your tent and get ready, dawn will come and we have a long day in the saddle.”


	6. la grâce de la veuve  – Val Royeaux – prison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man formerly known as Blackwall waits in the Val Royeaux prision.  
> For what he knows probably to be the worst tortures of them all... la grâce de la veuve (the widow's favor). 
> 
> He tries to brace himself to suffer but there might be a twist...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations of the "Orlesian" phrases at the end of this chapter.
> 
> This chapter is angsty, it's dark and its desperate. Blackwall is still in horror but no one will get harmed, I promise!  
> So I think there should be now trigger warnings necessary.

* * *

 

After they had replaced the chains around wrists and ankles again, they dragged him into another room

No windows, another fireplace. This one with a grid to prevent anyone from coming too close to the flames. The fire gave some flickering lights but not enough to illuminate the whole room. The broad cot on one wall was almost covered in a disturbing twilight but he had recognized that there were rings and shackles on both, bed-head and -foot.

He was alone.

They had not forced him to sit or stand on a particular spot so he chose to sit close to the fire. Trying to catch as much warmth as he could before the eternal never ending cold would take over again. He knew it was not wise to turn his back against the door but he wanted to show that he did not care.

His first conscious decision in weeks.

Arms folded around his shins, his forehead down on bended knees. He tried to empty his mind. Step away from his self to be prepared for what ever was there to come. Fear would kill him so he tried not to be scared. It had been easier when everything was numb.

Finally he heard the distant clacking of heels coming down the stairs and stepping along the moldy corridor. Keys chinked against each other and the heavy wooden door creaked open. Now he could finally hear what had been only a murmuring from a far before.

“Don't fuss with me. I paid for him and for him alone. He is mine now! So get lost you and your henchmen. I insist to have my complete and utterly privacy down here. So go! Now!” A hissing, ageless voice was talking Orlesian with a strange accent. So strangely familiar that it sent him chills down his spine but he was not able to sort it out.

“Madame.” Shuffling feet and more rattling of a key ring. Then the obsequious voice continued: “Essayez de me le laisser en un morceau.* We have to have at least something we can put onto the gallows somehow.”

“Compris. Maintenant sortez! No reason for you to remain down here! I mean it! If I catch any of you, I’ll have my ways that Empress Celéne will learn that direct orders in her prison are dismissed randomly. I will find out alone when I’m done. My servants will let you know when you can have him back.”

“Comme vous le voulez, Madame.” More shuffling feet and some more heels clacking as they depart. Then, from a far, that servile voice once more: “One thing, Madame: I would highly recommend that you at no time release hands or feet. No one will be here to help you in case you are too careless. You will find anything you need to take _precautions_ attached to the bed.”

“Je vais garder cela à l’esprit. Adieu!” Impatience flared through the hissing.

He sat motionless, barely dared to breathe. The door creaked again, slammed. Then he heard how a key was turned inside the lock two times. The person stood still for a moment, obviously looking around. Looking at him from behind. Maybe she was taking a look at the room. Checking the area, examining the possibilities. Then he heard her steps again. Heels on stone, pacing around, circling him, he felt like a halla revolved by a hungry wolf.

A dagger slid out of a sheath and he tried to brace himself for the pain. Nothing happened. For what seemed to him to be eternity.

He withstand the urge to look up. To check where she was and what she was up to. 

Suddenly a hand grabbed his hair and pulled back his head with a sharp move. A woman’s frame in a dark coat, face covered from a huge hood. A black shadow towering over him. Forcing a blade against his throat with a gloved hand. So close, he felt the razor sharp blade cutting his skin when he swallowed. For a moment he considered to end it now. Throwing himself into the blade, ending her fun before it even began. But her other hand was still holding his hair in an iron grip and so he could not move with enough force to slide up his own throat properly. So he remained still. Trying to look not into the pitch-black darkness of the hooded face but up on the ceiling. He felt watched and it made him shiver. Then all in a sudden several things happened at the same time. The grip on his hair was suddenly gone. She threw away the dagger and it hit the wall with a sharp metallic sound. She snatched off her hood and the air was suddenly buzzing and violet sparks like little flashes began to form first around her hand and within a few moments all around her.

“Arya!” he gasped when he finally realized that it was her.

She threw away the cape and the gloves and stood in front of him like a fury. The green mark on her hand glowed in a scaring intensity, humming and flickering and a lightning storm seemed to form all around her. Her violet eyes were piercing him and everything was so bright that he had to close his eyes because all the light hurt.

He desperately tried to sort out what was just happening. Why was she even here? Suddenly he remembered. Before everything had gone numb. A lifetime ago. When he had tried to save Mornay from the gallows. She had been there. He had tried to remove this last shameful memory from his consciousness but now it slowly came back. She had called him out with the only name she knew him by. But he could not be Blackwall any longer. Even if he had wanted to. He had to become Thom Rainier again to save his former friend and officer from death. So he had confessed all his crimes and when they lead him off to prison he had one last view on her devastated face. After that there had been nothing.

“Yes, that’s my name. Still!” she had changed back into the common language. He knew she hated it talking Orlesian though she spoke it as good as he did.

“I’m sorry…” it slipped before he could think.

“Fuck you!” she yelled and jumped closer, forced him to look her into the eyes. “What were you thinking? Banging me into sweet dreams and piss off? What kind of bastard does this to the woman he claims to love?”

“Haven’t you read my letter?” Weak!

She made a nasty sound. “You even have the nerve to call this fucking note a letter?” she snorted. The lightning energy expanded all over the room buzzing and glistening telling him, how angry she was.

“I just had to go. It had nothing to do with our love.” He explained with all his stubbornness.

“It had _everything_ to do with it!” she repeated with a voice cracking and cold like ice. “I _trusted_ you. With my life! And you? Could not even tell me your _fucking_ name!”

“I never failed you!” he insisted. Truth had to stay truth after all. His love and his loyalty as a warrior had never been in question. 

“But you lied to me. So where’s the trust you claim you’ve had in me?” she was pacing around in front of him in desperate need to discharge all this bursting energy inside her. With a furious cry she finally kicked the grid in front of the fireplace. The metal bulged under her boot and the bolts were ripped out of the wall. The grid fell down in a loud metallic din until the noise faded when it finally laid still on the floor. The echo was still in his ears giving him an instant headache.

“I could not tell. I wanted, but how could you love a murderer? A liar! A monster! A man who gave order to slaughter women and children for coin? How do you think could I have a place in your heart with guilt like that? You need an honorable man. I wanted to be that for you. Maker, I needed to be better to be worthy of you! I tried, but the truth is I can never be good enough for you!” His shackles jangled when he lifted his hands in a desperate gesture.

„Are you aware that you are implying you are not good enough to be loved by a _tavern-whore_?” she spat the word on him. “A woman who sold more than her dancing skills in order to make a life without being forced to live in a circle prison? A woman who has killed more than one innocent man who accidentally discovered that she was a mage?”

He stared at her. Then slowly shook his head. „That’s not the same.” he objected.

„Try to make up _one_ relevant difference!” She dared him with a sharp edged voice.

He stared at her. Could not decide whether he should go on arguing or just let go. The insufferable tension over not knowing which kind of gruesome abuse was waiting for him slowly faded. He felt so tired now as the rush had gone. Knowing that there would at least be no cruelty tonight. The whirlwind of sparks was less intense now. She still was furious but not so much anymore. His heart ached when he looked at her. How much he loved her and how much he did not deserve to have this love. He finally sighed and repeated:

“It doesn’t matter anymore. You should not even be here. Lady Inquisitor.“ He tried to end the conversation. It would be better if she would leave him alone to die. Better for her, for the Inquisition. For everyone. Even for him.

“Well, I’m here now. Was hard enough to get into this fucking prison, so deal with me!” stubborn like a nuggalope. Eventually she stopped her pacing around and stood in front of him. Hands on her hips was she was watching him from above. The fire reflected the buckles of her boots and he raised his gaze just to realize that he could not stand to meet her eyes. She stretched out her hand.

“Get up!” she demanded and he tried. She was none of the Orlesian guards whom he had refused following orders from the day he arrived. She was his lady and after all he was used to obey her. He needed a lot of help until he stood on his own two feet. Wobbly and insecure, the lack of training and moving plus the lack of proper food had already took its toll.

What was she up to? She would not try to free him, wouldn’t she? Risking her life and everything the Inquisition had worked so hard for just to kidnap a guilty prisoner from Orlais? And more important: Would he go with her? Could he, even if he wanted? But his musings were in vain.

“Sit there!” and she pointed on the cot.

“I was fine where I was sitting.” He did not want to get close to that thing.

“Sit!” her voice was sharp and he obeyed sullenly. He almost fell down on the edge of the damp and musty mattress. Trying to stay away far as he could from the shackles and rings. He did not suspect that she could try to tie him up but he just felt inconvenient with those things around right now.

He was surprised when she joined him, taking a place next to him, leaning her back against the cold wall. He finally did the same. Sitting next to her at least did not force him to look her into the eyes.

She fumbled in one of her pockets and finally found what she was looking for. Pulled out a little pouch and threw it on his lap.

“Herbs. Chew them. Will help against the pain. And keep the rest!” Her voice was neutral at best.

“There is nothing that helps against this pain.” He muttered, well knowing that he would make her furious again when he continued like that long enough. He had to do this. She had to understand that she must forget him. But he had not calculated that she might know him better than most people did.

“Again: _Fuck you_! You will not make me so angry that I will abandon you and let them prey over you without having the chance to hear the whole story.”

“You already know the whole story!”

“Then tell it again while you chew that damn herbs.” She tried hard to stay calm and neutral.

“It’s good for nothing. You should go and forget about me.” He was tired.

But she suddenly jumped onto her knees and grabbed his face with both her hands. All he felt was her hands on him and the memories rushing in. He fought them back. This had to stop. He still felt the tension of storm magic running over her skin when she forced him to look at him. She pulled him so close that he could smell her. Without thinking he inhaled and was devastated when not the familiar caramel hit his nose but oakmoss and elderberry. He had sparred often enough with _him_ so he knew this scent and it destroyed him.

“I will not give up on you that easy!” she told him with a voice like distant thunder while her eyes tried to lock with his. He did not even listen anymore while a wave of pointless jealousy rushed over him. He was not able to push away the sudden visions of her and Cullen. Weltering between the sheets in the same ecstatic lust only a few days before was his own privilege to have.

“You already smell like him.” He spat out without any context to her former words. “There you have your white knight in shiny armor! Go back to him and forget me! It’s better for everyone!”

Now she stared at him. Trying to understand. Failed with it and made something up from what she understand from his rumbling words. She had to collect herself, to calm down again. Breathe. “You! Know nothing!” She finally was able to say while she let go of him, almost pushing his head away, sinking back to her former place, back against the wall.

“I know enough! It’s your life. And you have every right. You came here to hear the story again? Fine. I will tell you. And then you will go and leave me to my punishment.” He demanded.

“Maybe I’ll do this. That’s not for you to decide. Now talk!” She countered with her Inquisitors voice and once more he obeyed.

While he was talking, Arya took opportunity to watch him closer. Even in the poor light she could see how worn out he was. As if he had shrunk somehow. This former so impressive warrior had become smaller. Shoulders sunk forward, head bent down. _Broken_. This was not him anymore. Not the man she thought she knew. All the body tension was gone. Dark circles under his eyes, bruises, scratches and even bite marks of rodents everywhere where she could see some of his skin. She only could imagine that it was worse underneath his clothes. He was in physical pain it was to guess every time he moved.

His hair was felted and though damp not groomed. At least he was clean of some kind in general but she assumed it was arranged for this obnoxious “grâce de la veuve”. His beard was growing back untrimmed and in irregular stubble. She wished she could see his old beard back just to be able to relate more to the man who was sitting there and talking about a life that seemed not to fit to the person she knew.

She was angry. But she loved him. She felt that more and more every second but she kept asking herself if just loving him would be ever enough. He was bruised and damaged deep in his soul. And she was hurt. Disappointed from his lack of trust and disgusted from this amount of self-loathing he displayed while he was talking. But still: She loved him.

She managed to calm down and get back to concentrate on the things he was telling her. He had not used his voice for weeks so he became hoarse soon and when she demanded again to take those herbs he did not object anymore. They helped him to endure the pain and to focus. He was not sure whether he liked that or not. But it made him capable to answer her questions. Honest and straight forward. No lies anymore. And he was able to push aside the disturbing thoughts of jealousy that he did not want to feel. 

He told her everything she wanted to know. Who he had been when his name was Thom Rainier. Where he had come from and how his path into the military had been to make a career he thought would be suitable for him. How he had become a man of ambition, greed and ruthlessness. Willing to sacrifice others to get what he wanted and stepping literally over corpses on his way up.

Finally words about the deal and his motives when he accepted the coin and agreed to murder Callier. Rumbling and unsorted first, eventually finding a way to put all the horror into words.

It could have been anyone. He had no political ambitions, just always looking for his own benefit and the fattest pouch. He spoke about the night that changed everything. The night they went after the man Callier, not knowing that he had his entourage with him. His wife and children, almost his entire household had been on the road that night.

Such a bad research and he had been the one who did it. Trusting scouts who told him otherwise and did no double-check because he simply did not care. His men had their orders and they trusted him, when he said it was important to attack and to kill everyone. How he was terrified when everything went out of hand. And how he was not man enough to stand for his actions but abandoned his men and ran, still the weeps and cries of the dying children in his ears and for ever in his mind.

He told her about the nightmares and the attempts to drown them in heavy liquors. To make an end to himself while engaging in tavern brawls no one could survive – but unfortunately he did.

And he talked about how he finally met a man named Gordon Blackwall who must have seen something in him and was willing to recruit him as a Grey Warden. First it had been only a way out of misery to find cover in a new assignment under a new banner. But when he spent more time with Blackwall, he really felt that this could be his way to atone. He was good at killing after all and for once he could use this for something good – and the idea of becoming a Warden became more and more appealing and finally a goal to him. Then, when he almost was about to join, Blackwall died in a darkspawn ambush while he was away to solve his first mission as a Warden to be. Again it was his fault that an innocent man had to die. Blackwall took a blow that should have been his and died. If he had been there from the beginning they would have had a chance together.

He was afraid no one would believe him when he ever told the truth about the real Blackwalls death and in his panic he decided to take this man’s identity and carried on with the mission: Helping people and recruit potential new Grey Wardens. But nothing could resolve his guilt and whatever he did, it always piled up more and more.

Arya did not reason with him about that or any other point. She just listened.

And when he was done talking, she got up and turned to go. Wordless. No goodbye. Not a hint on what she thought and intended to do. Just hurried out.

She had to. If she had stayed, she would have tried to drag him into her arms, to hold him and to cry with him. But she could not allow herself to let that happen. She loved him, yes. But she was angry, too. And she was still not sure how she should proceed in this matter.

He watched her leave. Wanted to call her back. Drag her into his arms. Hold her forever. Begging to forgiveness.

He did nothing. While he had been talking earlier, at one point his hand had slipped, searching for hers. She had flinched when she felt his touch. This was the worst. Now she was leaving. For good, one part of him hoped. Back to Cullen most likely and he prayed, that this encounter had finally been everything she needed to be able to forget him.

He stayed where he was. Arms around his shin, forehead on his bended knees, waiting for the numbness to return and he hoped it would come before they came to drag him back upstairs to his usual cell.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Translations from “Orlesian” - special thanks to the sweet and wonderful reinedesglacesalavanille:
> 
> \- Comme vous le voulez, Madame. - as you wish, my lady.  
> \- Compris. Maintenant sortez! - Understood. Now get out!  
> \- Essayez de me le laisser en un morceau. - Try to leave him in one piece.  
> \- Je vais garder cela à l’esprit. Adieu! - I’ll keep that in mind. Adieu!


	7. 24 days before la grâce de la veuve – on the road to Val Royeaux – feed the fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another snippet of Arya and Cullen on their way to Val Royeaux. Things get hot finally after months of sneaking around each other but the situation may not be the perfect setting for a sexy encounter after a slow burn so one of its kind...

 

* * *

 

She had sneaked into his tent every night. Cullen held her. Every single night. Let her cry.

The forth or fifth night he dared to caress her. Only her hair at first. Then her face. Careful touching her cheeks with his fingers, his lips, caressing to comfort her and to ease her pain.

 _What was he thinking?_ Offering a massage for her tensed shoulders and of course it went out of hand. Before he really knew what was happening their mouths clashed and their kisses were so desperate, as if the other was the only hope in this world.

Cullen knew it was neither the right time nor the right setting to finally give in to their lust but he had waited so long to have her, he could not make himself stop now.

She was rough. Her mouth demanding and her tongue almost forcing itself between his lips. He adapted and tried to let himself go with her passion. Grabbing hard where he would have loved to linger and slightly touch, pushing forwards when he’d preferred to take time and cherish. , _Next time_ ’ he thought. , _Next time will be calmer. It’s just the rush now._ ’

He gasped, when she threw away her tunic and the shift she was wearing underneath while already straddling him – Her torso was strewn with half healed bite marks, hickeys and scratches. Was this how she wanted him to love her? Leaving marks all over? She seemed not to notice his sudden reluctance and slid down on him, already opening the laces that held his breeches with impatient fingers apparently to find him with her mouth.

„Arya.” He tried. No reaction.

He called her name again and her eyes were feverish when she looked up from his waistband to meet his eyes.

„ _What?_ ”

„Come here, love.” He stretched out his hand and pulled her up, so their faces were on the same level again. He tried a soft kiss but she had no patience.

Like a wild cat she was lolling under his hands and when she finally offered him the crook of her neck and he placed soft kisses on it she demanded: „Harder Cullen! Bite me!” This was the moment he knew he would not be able to give that to her at this moment. He tried to pin her hands to prevent her from digging her nails into his shoulders but it only seemed to fire her lust. So he let go off of her and tried to reason.

„Arya, listen…” he finally pulled her back, tight into his arms and held her so that she could not escape or go on to try to undress him. „Any other night, I swear I can be anything you want and need. But not tonight. Not like this. You don’t want me here and you don’t want to make love with me. You just want to numb your pain with more pain. This won’t work. Believe me. Please, Arya, calm down.”

She was breathing hard and fast, needed time to focus again and fully understand what he just said.

„Cullen...” she began with an almost begging voice but he shushed her gently and tried to put his finger on her lips but rejected at once when she immediately tried to let his finger slip into her mouth. Under normal circumstances this would have been highly alluring to him, but he flinched and finally it got into her consciousness that something was not right.

A feeling of being rejected, not being wanted was the first impulse. She was half way down to make some nasty comments but when she saw Cullens sad face and the pain still mixed with affection and even love, she finally came to think and her conscience came clear again. She hated to admit but she knew he was right and again the tears began to run down her face, her body shaken from the sobs and the pain that found no other way to leave her body.

„I’m sorry, Cullen.” It was barely to hear under her sobs but he understood. He managed to wiggle them both into the bedroll and though he felt like crying himself he was able to pretend he was strong so he could comfort her.

After a while she became quieter again and he began to run his fingers through her hair and caress her face with the lightest of touch.

„Can I ask you something?” He tried after a while and she nodded reluctant. “All those marks on your body…” he did not know how to put it into words instead he softly touched a hickey on her cleavage that had already changed into a yellowish color on her skin. „I mean, do you… errm… _need_ them to…” he hesitated again. „You know, to enjoy? Are you into things like that? Pain and being tied up and stuff of this sort?”

She shrugged. „Cullen, I’m into a lot of things.”

„That was not my question.” He replied shortly but then resumed to explain the thoughts that had occurred just now after this last moments. „I was just wondering if it was this that kept you away from me. Thinking that I might not be willing or capable to give you what you need.”

„You know that this was never the point.”

He sighed. “You are probably right. And I understand that this may not be the smartest moment to ask you this. Can you forgive me?”

„There is nothing to forgive. What shall you think when you see me with all this marks and then I’m going berserk over you…” she shrugged again. „Maybe we can talk about this things another time. Just know that I never thought you were not the right person to make love to me. I never had such feelings. It’s just…” and both said it at the same time:

„Complicated.”

 


	8. 24 days before la grâce de la veuve – also on the road to Val Royeaux – dead man on the run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man the Inquisition knew as Blackwall is on the run. And he needs to return to be the man he never wanted to be again after he messed up everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three things:
> 
> \- There is one sentence in here when Rainier contemplates suicide for a second. It is no serious option, but I think I should mention it here so you know that this sentence exists.  
> \- He is drinking Whiskey. Pours it directly out of the bottle. Desperate drinking. A lot of it. (And his thoughts get blurry over it so the text might seem a bit unsorted but it's what too much Whiskey does.)  
> \- Also there are some nsfw sequences in here. Memories that keep pushing into his mind. It's no smut but it's sexy stuff they did in the past.

 

* * *

 

They did not know, but Arya and Cullen were never that far behind him. Two and a half days ahead he was at maximum. And also he did not know. He wished to believe that his letter had been enough to her to not go after him. He tried to make himself believe that she would not try to find him. Hate him enough to stay off and forget him.

And that if she'd try, (what he always suspected because he knew her better) she would not be able to figure out where to look for him.

He rode hard, too. When he came across a bigger village he used the coin that he had saved for a long time and bought some things and took a room for one night at the local tavern. It was simple and for a tavern of this sort even to call clean. He did not intend to stay long and he was not picky anyway. He had seen worse and he had to expect _far_ worse. So it was good for the night and his purposes.

First he took off his clothes. His gambeson. The sturdy thing that everyone knew and connected straight with him had to be gone first.

Trying to ignore the memories of a laughing Arya, her beautiful body wrapped into this very gambeson. Seductively letting it slip down from one shoulder to show that there was nothing underneath but her skin. This was other times. Times that allowed him a glimpse of another life. A better life. Times when he had already caught hope that there was a way for him to atone, to become a better man.

He took a deep sip of the whiskey that he had also acquired. He poured it directly from the bottle, no spark of self-respect left. He just needed to forget.

His belt. His breeches. His boots. He undressed himself and placed the things beside the gambeson. Everything that people could connect to him. He piled it up. Later he would drown them into a nearby river. His new clothes were simple, dark, warm, practical. A hooded cloak was what would keep away both: The cold and unwelcome looks.

His weapon was already gone. He had left it hidden in a Maker forgotten corner at Skyhold. It had been a gift from her and it was such a unique weapon he could not even think of taking it with him or sell it because it would draw too much attention. Instead he had swiped an old shield with no insignia and a decent sword from the armory. He had almost forgotten how it was to travel with a shield on his back but he had decided that it would help his disguise for he was known as a two handed fighter by now.

The whiskey was already half gone when he stepped in front of the mirror to complete his task for tonight. The razor blade reflected the candles and the fire from the fireplace that illuminated the room in a warm yellow light. It was just light enough to be able to see his face reflecting. He barely could meet his own gaze. Two or three times he stepped back, took another sip, sat down. Turned the razor in his hand, closely watching it. Seeing his grey eyes like in the mirror, he turned the blade faster away so he could pretend he did not see the sadness, and the darkness beneath it all.

Why not ending it here? Tempting idea! Fast cut and the mess would not be his problem. Here and anywhere else. But he knew why he would not do it. He had to do the right thing. He had to save Mornay, no matter what would happen afterward.

So he finally got up again and made some more preparations. Heating water in the kettle over the small fire, foaming up some soap in a little bowl and while he waited and watched his hands move he could not prevent himself to remember the last night with her. 

It was not even planned to sleep with her that last night. But of course after all this emotional talk and the looks and her being so close at the tavern. His aching heart when she was just there, loving him so unconditionally as if there was no care in this world, he could not send her away when she asked to stay the night. Could not resist a last time to cherish her sweet love and her wild affection. Taking her scent and taste with him on his last journey. Savor her soft skin and hot lust for a last time. Building up a memory to cling on when his life would go to pieces very soon. How selfish he was. Taking love he did not deserve to ease the suffering he knew that would come upon him.

He had needed to see her come undone for one last time. Hear her moan, what she thought was his name and he just wished so desperately could be really his. See her glow, knowing that he was the one who could get her over the edge only with his voice. Or with his lips, his hands, his cock, he just wanted to give it all to her. It had been a wild and passionate night and he knew she would still wear his marks on her as he did hers. 

He only hoped she would be able to remember some good things but would finally be able to forget him. Maybe she would tell herself that it was not love, just sex and maybe she would call him a bastard who only wanted to fuck the Inquisitor. It broke his heart but he hoped that she would be able to hate him as passionate as she had loved him.

His thoughts became unsorted and weird and he blamed the whiskey. He was somewhere between weeping and lechery when he remembered that last night with her and he called himself back to order before he could drown in drunken feelings and start something inappropriate to numb his longing to have her back.

 Stretching his tensed shoulder muscles by tilting his head to the left and right until at least his neck relaxed with some cracking noises. He got up hastily when he became aware that he was wasting precious time, but the alcohol had made his feet insecure and the ground shaky so he sat back again waiting until his head stopped spinning while the brooding continued. Anyway, the water was boiling and he had things to do before he would rest for a few hours and resume his journey to final redemption afterward.

 

One day someone had told him, that his thing for beautiful women would be his demise one day and now that he was on the edge of doom, he was almost in to agree. Maybe this would have never happened if she had not impressed him that much in the Hinterlands, when he suddenly felt the urge to commit himself to the Inquisition. To her. It had always been her.

Should have stayed a loner on the run, finding resolve in helping people by showing them how to defend themselves from bandits and other threats. His own salvation had died in that darkspawn ambush years ago but he could at least help others not to get bullied, robbed or killed. Instead he had followed her into a new life that he did not deserved because he was not worth it no matter how hard he tried.

There was no reason for stalling anymore. The water was hot and the soap ready. He sighed when he tried to get up again and this time slow so the whiskey would not trick him. Injuries of long fought battles hurt and his bones cracked and he felt old and worn out when he stepped across the little room again.

Forcing himself to take a look into the mirror now. His hair had grown longer recently. She had mocked him about trying to make up for the grey streaks that occurred more and more. And he had teased her back that he never had a single grey hair before he had met her and that this must mean something… She had laughed and ran her fingers through his hair until she finally clasped her fists around the full streaks to pull him closer for a kiss and he knew she liked his longer hair.

He swallowed hard. He needed to focus. Focus on the beard, but he did not really know where to start.

_He,_ the real Blackwall, had a beard like that, when he recruited him in that rancid tavern where he might or might have not saved a tavern-maiden from being raped by a bunch of drunken filthy mercenaries. When he had decided to take his name he also decided to let his facial hair grow so he could match the image of the fallen man better.

‘ _It has to be done. No more disguises!’_ He reminded himself and began to apply the foam on his face. A tangy scent lingered around him that he had not smelled in so and so many years. He had not bought the cheapest of soaps. Old habits hardly die. While he let the soap soak in he kept on staring into the face in the mirror. When had he cracked his nose again? He tried to remember but it was not easy to catch older memories through the now heavy lingering whiskey mist.

But suddenly he felt her fingers again. Tracing the uneven line of his nose back, her lips placing little kisses on the crack and the skin that had never lost a darker shade after healing. _This_ memory did not fade in the mist and he cursed blasphemously (even for his standards) that every fucking moment seemed to hold a memory of her.

He raised the razor blade now to finally do what had to be done. Slowly and carefully running it down his cheeks and over his chin. First getting rid of the longer hair, leaving uneven stubble all over. Taking away the mustache, then applying soap again to do the finer work. Now against the streak; sliding the blade up, careful and thorough. The Whiskey did not affect his work with the sharp and deadly instrument anymore. But again there were memories of her he could not block out. He tried to convince himself that they were unwelcome by now but those memories were all he would ever have and so he finally gave in and let his mind wander back. To the last time he had such a razor blade in his hands. What a moment of trust and wicked lust it had been, there in the bathhouse. When she had put the blade into his hands and simply leaned back on the bench and parted her legs for him.  _Maker!_ His hand almost trembled when the memories came back with such intensity and he almost cut himself. He forced the thoughts away. Later maybe he promised himself, just to be able to focus now.

After a while the beard was all gone. The hair would have to wait until the next village, because he would not cut it with a knife or a razor like a hobo. He would find someone who could do a decent haircut for him, there was enough coin left to pay for it after all. He took a soft leather strip from somewhere of his old clothes and used it to tie his hair together in his nape. When he finally became aware that he was still staring into the mirror while his hands absentmindedly striking over the now soft and bare skin, he tried to find someone familiar in that reflection. But he failed. Felt naked. Unprotected. Vulnerable.

 

Blackwall was gone.

But was this really Thom Rainier?

 

 


	9. 20 days before la grâce de la veuve - Val Royeaux - the gallows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only hint the Inquisition has to find Blackwall is the announcement for an upcoming execution of a man named Mornay in Val Royeaux.   
> What Arya learns there at the gallows about the man she thought she knew so well, almost shatters her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I took some freedom to add some more details to the related cutscene.   
> Plus a little brooding Cullen and Arya.

* * *

 

Was it really right to use the information network of the Inquisition for her own matters? And was it really only her own matter? Not only her private business but a concern that mattered to the Inquisition as a whole? Or was it just her wishing it would be to feel less guilty? Aryas head was spinning. She had been contemplating it over and over again.

After all it were resources the organization could have used elsewhere as good and urgent as here. Was it really the truth when she said that she would have gone after every other companion like she was now going for Blackwall? What if it had been Solas instead? Bull? Vivienne?

Yes, she decided. This was her family. And no matter the cost, she would protect it. That it was Blackwall, the man she loved, made it naturally more urgent to her. She would have felt heartless if it wouldn't have been that case.

* * *

It had not been such an effort finding out the scheduled time of the execution of this man Mornay. Still no one knew how this would have something to do with Blackwall. But it was their only clue and so they would be there. Sera and Cole were assigned to be around in the city trying to find out more from gossip and sneaking around in forbidden and hidden places and Dorian would accompany her to the execution.

Cullen had offered to come with her but she had declined.

“No, Cullen. Hooded cloaks and staying in the shadows is not the way you lead your operations. I would take you with me if I wished the full honor guard to represent the Inquisition.” He had obeyed and his eyes were sad and full of sorrow, when he saw her leave.

She had kissed him goodbye. A soft touch on his lips her arms slung around his neck.

As if they were lovers.

Were they?

Since they had left Skyhold she slept in his arms. While she was crying over another man. He knew she loved Blackwall. And he also knew that she loved him, too. Only thing he could not answer was the question whom she did love more. Or maybe both equally? But after all that Blackwall had done to her,maybe she was already about to forget Blackwall and he could be there for her. Cullen was no evil man. Wished nobody harm. But after Blackwall had left without a word, Cullen had finally found the hope to start thinking about some kind of future with her.

He called himself back to order.

They were still on their mission to find Blackwall and she was relying on the promise he made: To help her rescuing him if that was her wish. Cullen continued to hope. And to wait. And to suffer.

* * *

The air was all a tensed humming and Dorian shook his head.

“Fascinating how an upcoming public death makes people so... _excited_.”

They were both wearing dark capes and had left their staffs and mounts back in the Inquisition embassy, which was both: their strategic base and shelter while they stayed in Val Royeaux.

“You can amuse people with suffer and pain so easily and distract them from any other problems…” she shrugged and Dorian had to agree.

They had not talked much and also now as they dived through the crowd to find some decent place from where they could observe the scene she was not in for the usual chit chat. But Dorian knew her well and would not force any talk upon his friend as he felt, she was not up to it. And after all he felt the excitement too. They did not know what to expect and so the tension all around them was almost palpable.

When finally the execution began, Arya had to translate the fast Orlesian speech of the announcer to the Tevene mage. So they both learned that Mornay was accused of murder of a man named Callier and his whole family during a plotted massacre years ago. As much as she tried to understand there was no connection between this man up there and Blackwall.

Suddenly turmoil from the side and a man approached the gallows. Tall and broad, dark clothes, dark short hair with hints of grey, piercing eyes of light color. Good looking in a shady way. Strangely familiar though and when he began to speak she gasped and Dorian had to grab her arm to steady her.

It was Blackwall. And it was not. Shaven face and a different haircut, looking younger but worn out and haunted. The man just interrupted the ongoing execution and claimed that Mornay, who was still waiting for the rope, was innocent and he demanded to let him go.

Arya stared, exchanging looks of confusion with Dorian who only shook his head. He was getting even less for everything was spoken in Orlesian. Blackwall talked fluently with the same thick Marchers accent as she did when she had to use that language.

The announcer now engaged himself into an argument with the disturber and was not willing to let go of Mornay. Words flew like daggers, the crowd was agitated, wanted blood, demanded to proceed and hunt the intruder off to where he had come from. She watched from her spot. Petrified at first. So many questions. And the talk up there gave her no answers. Finally she dragged herself free from Dorians grasp on her sleeve and she was off. Shoving herself through the crowd, not bothering for excuses or detours. Just bulling forward with no regard bumping into people. Dorian hurried behind, trying to fix the worst anger, trying not to provoke an agitated mob on them. Flaring excuses and witty comments all around using all his charm to soothe the angrily yelling people.

“ _Blackwall!_ ” she came to stand in the first row. Her voice echoed over the place and all in a sudden there was a silence around that was so eternal and ominous that Dorian felt a shiver run down his spine.

Her hood had fallen down as she was standing there. Confused, hurt and angry and Blackwalls eyes showed all the pain and desperation when he saw who had called him.

 

“I am not Blackwall! I was never Blackwall!”

 

He began to speak. Finally some explanations. And she listened. Listened to what he confessed now in front of the crowd. The things he had not been able to confess when they were alone and in the privacy of their rooms when she thought he had trusted her the way she did. Now he was telling his secrets in front of just everybody.

Thom Rainier.

A name that sounded so _wrong_.

Wrong like the man standing up there, claiming that he was this Thom Rainier.

_All this was wrong._

This was the man she loved and he was not. Claimed to be a murderer and a coward. Being responsible for the death of women and children and having caused suffer and pain amongst his own men.

A soldier. A captain of the Orlesian army. Fallen from grace by treachery and greed. She did not care right now. People died for less than coin.

But why had he _lied_ to her? Many things seemed to make sense for a second and then were gone in a blink and she was even more confused.

When she became aware that the mob had gone angry and was about to get out of control after they heard the name _Thom_ _Rainier_ she suddenlyrealized that she had to react or otherwise people would just jump up and lynch him in their fury. She would never let this happen. He may deserved punishment and right at this moment she would have been able to kill him with her bare hands - but _this here_ was no end to be wished for anybody, even the biggest monster of a criminal – torn apart from the claws and teeth of an outraged mob.

Arya was thankful that she had listened to Josephine this morning and had put on her Inquisition gear with lots of impressive insignia underneath the cape. So she was able to throw the cape away and jump up on the planks of the gallows now where Mornay still knelt and _Black…_ Rainier stood terrified as she now claimed to speak.

“In the name of the Inquisition I demand full elucidation about this case and the suspect! As this man claimed to be a member of the Inquisition I declare the interest and full rights of the Inquisition to have access to all the relevant files and to engage our own investigations regarding the suspect. We have to solve if he has committed any crimes towards our organization and if so, we may pull charges against him!” She turned towards the announcer who seemed to be the highest rank on the scene. “So take him into custody and inform the Orlesian officials to answer the questions of our agents. The Inquisition has questions and the Inquisition will hold _you_ responsible if any harm is done to the prisoner.”

She walked down the few steps, passing by her lover but had not a single glance for him. He had seen her eyes and no matter how demanding her voice had been, he knew that her heart was aching and she was close to a break down. A distant thunder rolled, there was going to be a storm over Val Royeaux today.

He was well aware that she had just saved him from a horrible way to die by declaring openly the Inquisitions’ interests in his case. Why in the Makers name had she done that? When would this all be over? He just wanted it to have it an end.

But for now tough arms were grasping around his upper arms, shoving him down the gallows and away. He would not die today, but he would. He was sure. Now that everyone knew who he was, there was no way for him to ever walk free again. The next execution would be hopefully his own and he was accepting that with all his tormented heart.

The man who had called himself Blackwall for so long, whispered “I’m so sorry, Arya.” But she couldn’t hear him anymore. And he decided it would be better if he’d stopped caring.

 


	10. 24 days before la grâce de la veuve - Val Royeaux - Inquisition embassy - asking in favors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just after the scene at the Val Royeaux Gallows where they found the man who called himself Blackwall, Arya and her party return to the Inquisition Embassy.   
> They get busy solving the situation, finding out what to do now.  
> In the middle the Inqusitor, still torn between the two men she loves.

 

* * *

 

They had brought her back to the embassy barely in one piece. She was not crying and still walking on her own two feet but her face was pale and she was not responsive in any kind. Dorian had had to steady her and Cole and Sera were upset like hatchlings who lost their mother. Sera was compensating the disturbing news over her friend Blackwall with nasty curses and Cole who still tried to fit into being more human was babbling out unsorted thoughts of random people just like they were popping into his consciousness until Dorian put Sera in charge with an impatient and demanding voice to take care for Cole until he got calmer and the Rogue maybe for once in her life just obeyed but not without continuously muttering nasty things.

Cullen did not care who was looking, this was an emergency and while he listened to the brief overview the Tevene provided him with, he finally lifted her up, hands under her knees and supporting her neck and turned to the stairs to hurry up to her room. Placing her on her bed carefully and rested his hand on her forehead for a moment, while placing himself at her side.He felt guilty. He should have insisted in coming with her. Giving her more guards. He should not have backed down in this matter, letting her run off alone. No weapons, no protection. He must have been crazy letting her go vulnerable like this.

He stretched his back and sighed deeply while he wondered what might have happened in detail. He would have to ask Dorian to learn more so he got up from the bedside and turned to the door to return downstairs to find the Tevene again. 

Cullen did not want to leave her but he had to. Orders had to be given. Research had to be done, Josephine needed input to arrange meetings, negotiations and talks, seeing her contacts and finding out more about this Rainier and the crimes he might have committed. He was already at the door, when she called him back.

„Cullen. Wait!“

He turned around. She was already sitting up and he hurried back.

„What do you think you are doing?“ he asked with a little smile but still with that kind of determined firmness he usually spared for very young recruits who might be all eager but still not ready to stand a fight. „Take some rest. We will handle anything.“ He sat down next to her on the bed again, slung one arm around her shoulders and hoped she would listen to him. But as usual Arya Trevelyan had her own mind and refused to be left on her own in that room with nothing to do.

„I can’t just stay in bed now. Don’t leave me here, doomed to brooding. I need to find out what is going on here. I know you all want to help but it’s something I have to do.“ she wanted to jump up but with a sudden rush of nausea she realized that she needed a moment longer to sit and gather strength to get up so she stayed where she was for now.

„You will, but you are exhausted.“ Cullen wished he knew a way to convince her that she needed rest.

„I’m good. I need to know everything about this Thom Rainier. This Callier incident and how it’s all connected to the Grey Wardens.“

Cullen sighed and changed into formal speech because he knew arguing would be pointless. „As you wish, Lady Inquisitor. Do you want any orders be sent to the prison according on how Black... Rainier should be treated?“

She looked at him for a long moment then shook her head. „I already gave my orders while on the gallows. They hopefully will obey and not killing him until we finish our investigations.“ Her beautiful eyes were darker than usual and Cullen almost shivered from her look. Hard and distant. Someone who knew her less could have thought she was merciless and without compassion. He knew better. She cared. Maybe too much. But at the same time she was just somewhere between anger and helplessness and there was a lot of hurt, too. She had put on a mask of showing no mercy in order to survive.

So he nodded leaving her hard decision like it was.

„Understood. Beside that, do you wish to speak to him personally? Shall Josephine try to arrange something? There should be options now that you claimed interest on the matter in the name of Inquisition.“

„Yes, I think I’ll have to speak with him as soon as possible.“

„Good then. Now will you stay here for a while and rest? I will provide you will all the information you just demanded.“ Cullen tried again but no way. She was getting up and shook her head.

“No way, Cullen. Work has to be done. And beside this _incident_ here, I’m sure there will be tons of other things, which need my attention. Let’s go!” and with that she finally got up, pulled up her boots over her knees and took care that the sleeves of her gauntlets were in place and with determined steps she headed out of her room and Cullen had nothing else to do but to follow.

*** * ***

Josephine worked really hard during the next days but the Orlesian authorities made it hard to gather information. They just seemed to shut down, apparently not eager to share either: their knowledge or the prisoner. The hardest part seemed keeping the court from just executing Rainier.

Together with Josephine, Arya was attending talks, negotiations, informal soirees and formal brunches. She dressed up in uncomfortable dresses and crinolines and even wore a mask or hiding her sadness and her exhaustion behind a pretty painted face, playing _the_ _G_ _ame_ as if she never had done anything else.

Cullen was always happy when the two ladies could attend those meetings on their own, the few times his attendance was necessary he came and endured with literally clenched teeth. He was fine being in charge of watching over Arya and Josephine but Orlesian nobles harassing him for dates or even marriage was torture for him and almost more than he could bear. But he did what was necessary. Was kind and friendly because he had sworn Arya to help her with her mission to save the other man in her life. He was exhausted and sad but he was keeping his oath.

Time was pressing. Not only because they didn’t know for how long the Inquisition could protect Rainier from a far but outside Val Royeaux there were still rifts to close and demons to fight and this mission had cost already more time than they actually had.

But no one dared to stop Arya. She worked all day and most of the nights. Trying to get things done. Working on Inquisition matters that needed her attention maybe even more than this man sitting there in a prison cell obviously wanting to die and leaving her and the love they had behind. Sometimes even she wondered if all this effort was worth it. But she simply could not say. Could not decide until she had a word with Rainier. Then, that was her hope, then she would be able to decide. 

Cullen never objected when she slipped into his bed every night. She just slung her arms around him from behind and pulled him close. Sometimes she cried silently until she fell into some unresting sleep and sometimes she was haunted by dreams that made her groan so painfully that Cullen had to wake her with soothing words. He suffered more and more when he looked at her. How she was all determined to be successful.

He could have appreciated it more if the goal had been another. The more he learned about Thom Rainier the angrier he became. What a prick! But Cullen failed - like everyone else - to bring the picture of Rainier to fit onto the man they all have come to know as Blackwall. Sometimes he just wished he could close the gap between Arya and him. Making the last step to become real lovers. Showing her his love in other ways than just helping and holding. He still wanted her in a far less noble way than always being the knight to the rescue. Wanted to make love to her, finding relief in her and making her forget her sorrows by just loving her until she moaned his name and come undone under his hands and mouth. But he did not dare to go further in the current situation and especially after this awkward night in the tent on their way to Val Royeaux. He wished to have her but he felt it would make their lives even more complicated than they already were. The odd situation made it difficult enough to distinguish if any sign of affection they showed to each other was just a way to comfort or had a deeper meaning. Cullen did not want to rush things or force decisions where the mind of the Inquisitor was already overcrowded with feelings and decisions she’d have to make.

* * *

„What do you mean, they won’t grant us permission to visit him? We are the Inquisition and we have claimed interest in that matter!” Arya was impatient and angry. Her eyes were flashing around and she could not stand in one place for long. Arms crossed in front of her and from time to time little violet drizzles emerged around her waving around like an aura until they faded again.

“They still deny us access to enter the prison, my lady.” Josephine made an excusing gesture desperately trying to calm her friend down.

“Can’t we press them with any Inquisition treaties or anything from all this paperwork” Arya pointed around at the files and books that were lined up at the walls of the meeting room but Josie shook her head.

“We have tried everything possible. They are like fish you try to catch with your bare hands. Always wiggling out, jumping away. Costing us time we don’t have. That’s their strategy.”

“We could ambush with a bunch of my soldiers and take him out.” Cullens suggestions were - as usual - all but diplomatic.

“I will not inflict a war with Orlais about him before I had a word with him personally.” Arya dismissed Cullens idea with an impatient glance but without raising her voice. “I have read so many reports, now. Talked to so many people and everything I learn is that this Rainier was a dick! I cannot relate this to the man we have known as Blackwall. I need to speak with him before I can decide anything.” She was pacing around the room and from a distant there was raising a thunderstorm over Val Royeaux. “Josephine, have you really tried everything to get us into that fucking prison? Can’t we blackmail anyone? Any of the guards? Some secrets we could use? Don’t we know anybody important enough to bribe or can we just sit and do nothing?“ she almost laughed when she looked into Josephines seemingly indignant face. “Come on, Josie, playing fair has not lead us anywhere. Time to go with the dirty tricks.”

Arya knew, that Josie was not all sweet and ruffles and now that a little smile curled the corners of her Ambassadors’ mouth, she knew already that she would come up with an idea.

“Just give me a few days.” Josephine finally agreed. “There might be something I can put up, but you must grant me you to never ask any questions about my contacts or anything related to this thing that I'm not telling you in the first place. It’s a really delicate and dirty thing I’m thinking of and it possibly will scare the hell of Thom Rainier when he gets clue what is going to happen. But as I see it, it will be the only option to give you both: Time and privacy to speak with him.“

Arya smiled a cold smile. No one ever should underestimate the resources of this innocent Antivan noble girl.

“I swear I’ll never ask a single question if you just give us some time. And for the scary part, Josie, I really do not fucking care about this right now so don’t you worry about that. As long as they keep him alive for now, I'm fine.“

Josie nodded. “Good then. I’ll let you know the minute I got something for you. Until now you can go and buy you a long dark hooded cloak and matching gloves. You’ll need them.“

* * *

Josephine had to ask in a lot of favors, paid a ridiculous amount of gold and spoke with so many shady people she almost lost count. For days she felt the constant wish to wash her hands and even take a bath from all the filthiness that seemed to surround her. But in the end she had arranged what she had aimed for.

A “grâce de la veuve”, also known as the „widows favor“ at the Val Royeaux prison with one the most hatred men of all Orlais: Thom Rainier.


	11. The night after la grâce de la veuve - Val Royeaux - Inquisition embassy - closing the gap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was such a slow burn!  
> Cullen and Arya finally do the thing!  
> Sweet and sensual and almost too fluffy to be smut. But it's explicit so it has itself earned the "smut" badge!!

 

* * *

The embassy was quiet by the time Arya returned from the prison. Everyone was asleep only Cullen was sitting on his desk, pretending to be busy but in fact he was only waiting for her to come back.

Finally she sneaked in. Still wrapped inside that hooded cloak.

Alone.

Anger flashed over his mind. She always was too careless. He jumped from his seat and headed to his open office door.

“Where are your guards?” was the first thing Cullen was throwing at her, standing on his door sill, even before the main doors were closed properly.

She crossed the entrance hall and passed him with no reply but a sour expression on her face. Entered his office though she felt the need to rest. Giving reports now was the last thing she aimed for. And justifying herself in front of a worried man was what she wanted the second least. Her thoughts were running in circles and she felt agitated, disturbed and confused.

“I don’t need any.” She spat back, threw away the cloak and placed herself in the big chair opposite Cullens desk. Legs casually tangling over one of the armrests. Her skin was pale and the dark circles under her eyes told him that she suffered from fatigue and the feverish shine in her eyes showed that she was on the edge from too many tears, too many worries and too little progress and even lesser resolve.

“Maker, this cloak does not make you invisible. Or invulnerable.” Cullens voice sounded impatient and stressed out. And he clearly was on the edge himself. The constant worries about her safety while she seemed to become more and more careless, the unsettled situation of how to deal with the current issues, the loss of valuable time they needed for other pressing Inquisition matters and the fact that he was here with the woman he loved to help getting the man out of prison, who would probably take this woman away from him again once they finally succeeded. And not to forget the constant pain of the Lyrium withdrawal that still haunted Cullen from time to time when times in general got rough. Sometimes more and sometimes less but stressful situations were of course not very helpful for his recovery.

All this made it harder from day to day to maintain his calm and professionalism at least when they were alone.

“I can protect and defend myself perfectly fine.” her usual stubborness.

“Not with an assassins’ blade in your back.” He had closed the office door and stepped back into the room. He placed himself into his chair only to jump up again almost immediately and began to pace around. “This is the last time I see you sneaking around without any protection and guards.” He ordered surprisingly determined. “I can’t risk to have you dead for _NOTHING_!” Suddenly he stopped his walk and Arya jumped when his fist hit the wall and his voice roseto an agitated growl. All the frustration went into this last word and his fist hammered against the wall a few times more with increasing intensity until she feared that either the wall would break - or Cullens hand.

She jumped up and hurried closer. Grasped his arm by the wrist and held him before he could hit anything anymore. She was strong and for a moment they seemed to engage into a strange game of arm wrestling until he got limp and his head sunk down on his chest making a resigned noise.

“Hold it Cullen.” She begged him. “I promise. I will take more care from now on. No more sneaking and no more walking around the city unguarded. Fine?” she made him turn towards her when there was no answer but a stubborn grunt. “ _All right_?” she asked again and after a while he nodded, still not able to look into her face again. Because nothing was all right.

They stood face to face now and he knew he had to ask about the outcome of the talk with Rainier.

He was afraid to ask.

She was afraid to tell.

Weeks, months, many months of tension became almost palpable when they stood next to that wall now.

No way to tell who finally started it but suddenly they fell into each others arms and their kiss was full of frantic passion. He pushed her backwards until the back of her thighs met his desk and he kept on pushing her gently until she sank down on it while he was shoving away parchments and quills, books and what ever there was also on the table that was in his way now.

Her hands were already fumbling on the clasps of his coat and when it fell down to the floor she was already busy tugging his shirt out of his breeches to find skin to touch. He could not let go off her mouth, kissing her, nibbling, sucking, biting her lips. Touches first light as a feather then more demanding. Letting his tongue slide over her lips, to meet hers while she was under him, pinned on his desk by his body.

He wanted her out of that armor of hers. Now. But so many hooks and eyes and buttons seemed to stand between him and the skin he desired to touch so much. His fingers ran impatiently over the clasps and little buckles until they heard fabric ripping apart.

“Sorry.” He mumbled into the crook of her neck but could not stop his eager but trembling hands from fighting with her jacket. More sounds of ripped fabrics and metal buttons that sprang off and chinked against the wall and kept rolling over the wooden floor. And he groaned from the noises alone. This was strangely alluring and only for a moment he felt ashamed for the fine tailored piece he was just tearing apart. Once the jacket was open he dragged it over her shoulders and she could not assist fast enough to help him freeing her from it. A dark shift with laces appeared once the jacket was gone and he just wanted it to get off of her. Both his hands grabbed the soft material at the cleavage and before he could think he was tearing it apart from the middle with one fast determined move. She gasped. This was a side of Cullen she had not encountered so far but she lovedto see him like this.

Half of him wanted to have her right here on the desk, but then he realized in a last moment of consciousness that this might be their first time ever (and he did not dare to think it maybe could also be their last) so he tried calm down and decide something reasonable,

She was under him, only her breastband was covering her upper body anymore. Her nipples already perking under the fabric and he could not wait to lick them, put them into his mouth just to see how she would react.

But not here. Not on his office desk. He wanted it at some more decent place. He got up and even before she realized what was going on he had lifted her up and hurried towards the next room where he had his gaunt sleeping room, only equipped with a bed and piles of books everywhere.

He placed her on his bed, managed to light some candles and finally thought that it might be helpful to get out of their boots before they would do anything else.

Both had not spoken a single word. All those words of prudence they had exchangedin moments like this had been leashing their passion again and again. Not tonight.

He sat beside where she was lying on her back. She watched him when he began to open her boots. Clasp after clasp, buckle after buckle. Slowly and with full attention to what he did. This was unbelievable alluring to her. Arya loved watching men taking off her boots and now seeing Culling doing that for her fired her lust. But she also had to shove away some memories of Blackwall doing the exact same thing for her so many times before. Finally she managed to concentrate back to the man who was with her now and who finally deserved her full attention after being so damn patient and understanding all this time.

When her boots were gone, Cullen managed to get rid of his own in the shortest amount of time and finally slid beside her again.

Little kisses along her jawline. Down, along the crook of her neck. Licking, soft bites that elicited soft moans from her, while she was lolling under his caresses. His hands found the little buttons that held her breast band and now he took the time to open them instead of just ripping them off. One by one. Kissing every inch of skin he freed with another button. She felt so soft and her nipples and areola were dark in contrast to her milky skin. His mouth covered the left one, licking, finally sucking it in while his hand moved over to the right breast to hold it in a careful but firm grip. She groaned when his fingers found the nipple and began to play with it. Rolling it, making it even perkier than it already was, eventually pinching it softly then a bit firmer until she whimpered from lust.

He kissed his way back up slowly until he reached her mouth to find it eager to kiss him.

While they kissed, her hands had already found the laces that closed his breeches and she opened them with nimble hands.

She wanted that. So much. Just letting go. Having nothing to decide and nothing to be responsible for but for the pleasure she would give to the man who was with her now. Now was not the time to weep about Thom Rainier and all the things she had learned today. Tomorrow would be early enough to think again. To decide. To lead. Tonight was the night to make love to Cullen Rutherford. Finally. After all this time. After all this doubts.

“Is everything good, Arya? Is this really what you want?” he asked breathless but nevertheless worried, when he sensed that her motions suddenly became idle and slow. She managed to smile and nodded.

“I’m fine, Cullen. I want that as much as you do. So what do you like to do?” One of her hands caressed his cheek, feeling the stubble, her thumb gliding over his lower lip as if it was randomly but he knew it was not.

He smiled down at her and his breath was heavy but his voice was soft and thick with emotion when he replied.

“ _Everything_. Only tell me how do you want it.”

She frowned a bit, her eyes became a bit darker for a second and she took a deep breath.

“I put you in charge, Cullen. I cannot decide anymore. I’m tired. I need a break from responsibilities and telling everyone what to do. I’m so done. Just love me and let me be nothing but a person worth to be loved tonight.”

Her eyes were glistening and he breathed little kisses on them to prevent her from crying. This was not a night for desperate tears. They have had enough of them already. Her offer was alluring. Tempting, though he was not sure what she expected him to do now. He rested his head on his elbow, watching her in the candlelight.

“So may it be, love.” he began. Still not completely sure how to deal with it. „So may I proceed to undress you? Let you undress me?” She just nodded. He was adorable. Would probably need a little help with all the responsibility just given to him by putting him in charge but she did not mind. She believed she was in good hands. Literally.

“I’ll help you with your breeches.” She commented while she was grabbing the waistband and pulling the pants down. There was already a bulge and when she freed his erection from breeches and smalls it twitched out and they both had to chuckle a bit. It helped breaking the ice and he did not feel any awkward anymore getting naked in front of her.

She looked at him. Openly and with a curious smile and her looks were as if a gentle touch caressed his sensitive, aroused skin. He resisted the impulse to cover himself and let her look at him. There as nothing to be ashamed of, he knew that. Other girls had liked his cock and had said he looked sweet and pretty and other ridiculous things - but at least it had given him the confidence to smile through her little inspection.

Eventually she stretched out her hand and touched him. He gasped, moaned her name when her hand circled around his length. Not hard or demanding. Very soft and promising but it had been so long…

“Careful!” he breathed. “I will come at once if you go on touching me like that.” He did not want to mess this up.

And she obviously understood and had already let his cock out of her hand and leaned back into the pillows to distract him by giving him something to do.

„Maybe helping me out of _this_ might help for a bit cool down?” she pointed onto her breeches and he hurried to assist her. He opened the laces and with one swift pull he took both, pants and smalls, off, leaving them careless beside the bed.

Cullen sat on his heels next to her on the bed and took a moment to watch her as she watched him before.

They had been close doing this last step several times before. One time she had been almost naked. But never completely and he had always only his imagination of her in his lonely nights, when he was thinking of her.

Now it finally was real and he chuckled in amazement, when he saw the tattoo on her delta that was matching the one she had circling her left eye. What a sweet secret. Also she seemed to be into shaving because her pubic area was hairless and soft. He wanted to touch her but he hesitated because he felt kind of rude to start right there though he had not minded when she just did the same to him.

She felt his insecurity and helped him overcome it by taking his hand and softly pulling him closer.

Her legs parted and his eyes widened when she let him slide over her with no further distractions. He was hard and ready and she arched against him.

The sensation of her hot and moist flesh against his cock made him shiver and even more, when he let his length slide over her entrance and up where her most sensitive spot was and she moaned.

They kissed again. He felt his lust fueled by the increasing passion of the kiss and he enjoyed how her hands were wandering over his skin.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered somewhere close to her ear, while he was licking along her pulse and down to her shoulders where he placed more kisses and soft bites that made her sigh. “I want to proceed, but I’m afraid I will not last long enough to give you what you need.” He murmured while he was playing with her breasts again. Hands and mouth alternating on her soft skin caressing and teasing.

It sounded like a mix between a chuckle and a moan when she said. “There’s always the option of a second round and don’t forget that there’s not only one way to please.”

And he laughed a bit and replied with a low husky voice. “Maker, you have so much faith in me.”

„Don’t you worry Cullen, just let yourself go. We have all night.” she assured him and finally got a hold on his buttocks and began to grind her heat over his length until he groaned and finally did what he had imagined countless times before and what she was asking him now to do with every move she made: Letting his cock slide into her slick heat. Inch for inch, slowly, savoring every moment, every little move forward. She was tight and warm around his throbbing cock and Cullen could not help but moan when he felt her tighten even more around him to give him more feelings.

„Arya...” he began. Wanted to tell her about his feelings, his love, just give his emotions a voice, but she closed his mouth with hers.

She felt that she would not be able to listen to any confessions right now. The moment was already on the edge and she was close to snap from the whole situation. She needed the physical relieve. The feeling of skin and being loved and appreciated. And after all, she had wanted Cullen for so long. She felt for him, cared for him, loved him. But this was not the time to talk.

So she kept on kissing him passionately while letting him dive deeper into her. She slung her legs around his waist and moved herself against him.

He had waited so long for this moment and the reality was so much better than any fantasy he ever had about it. Maybe it was only because he had not been with a woman for some time but he had the feeling that it had never been so intense.

She was already moving. Trying to find a rhythm with him and though he had thought that maybe she would need more time to adjust or come into the mood, her actions convinced him otherwise and so he started to move inside her because he felt he should adapt to what she was giving him. Slowly first. Back and forth. Pulling back and shoving himself deeper into her heat again. She moaned softly. Moving with him, her hands on him, nails, oh so delicate, trailing over his back up and down, finally her hands resting on his buttocks with a firm grip assisting every of his thrusts towards her, adding a bit of intensity to each of them.

He was slightly overwhelmed and felt it would not last.

„I can’t... hold back, love.” he breathed with some adorable desperation in his voice somewhere beside her ear and before she could answer, he was going over the edge. He moved faster and when he felt her adjusting to his efforts he dared to be a little harder on her. And with a final moment of regret, that he had not been able to make her come, his orgasm built up and with a last breath of holding it back he allowed himself to let go and his climax washed over him. While he spilled himself into her, for a few moments that felt like eternity, he savored every spasm of lust that came in waves and let him shiver and groan her name. For a brief glimpse of time he felt like the center of all the world and he pushed back the urge to say something containing the Makers name for he felt it would have been blasphemous at this very moment even when his intentions were good.

When he became aware, that she was making soothing noises, moving softly into his fading waves and caressed his body with soft hands, Cullen felt as if he would break down and cry. She had allowed him to make love to her and he had not been able to please her. He had been selfish and had given into his own lust way too fast. His head buried in the crook of her neck, still inside her, still heavy breathing and his heart running, he could only repeat time after time: „I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.“ Until she shushed him gently while caressing his back and trailing her fingers through his curly hair.

„Don’t you ever say sorry after some sweet sex, Cullen.“ She finally cooed into his ear and let him slide out and off of her. He came to rest at her side, tousled curls and still a bit out of breath.

She stayed on her back, looking at him, her hand still caressing his face.

„But _you_?“ he asked.

„I’m fine. But I need to say something.“

He jumped and she could see that he was almost terrified. Most likely he was fearing that she would ask him to end it now and that she would run off. That he was afraid that she played a cruel game with him, letting him have her one time and sending him away right afterward.

He sighed with a deep hint of frustration and his head sank onto her chest between her breasts. „What is it, Arya.“ He asked, trying hard to stay calm.

But she chuckled and ran her fingers through his hair again which curled freely now from heat and sweat.

„Don’t you worry, I will not ask you to stop and retreat.” she assured him and he wondered how well she was able to read him. While he was still wondering if he really was so predictable, she continued. „You have to know something and maybe when you learn, it'll be _you_ who wishes to leave...“

He shook his head against her skin. Mumbling „No, what ever it is, I could never leave.“ His hand laid on her belly but he did not move. Just resting there as if he feared she could be gone if he does not pay attention.

„Listen first, Cullen. Then decide.“ She kept on trailing her fingers through his hair, her fingernails scratching softly over his scalp until he purred like a big majestic cat. „It has something to do with magic and I know that you might have some issues when it comes to that.“ Now, all in a sudden, she had his full attention and he looked up from where his head still was between her breasts.

„What do you try to tell me, Arya?“ he asked with a slightly worried tremble in his voice.

„It’s a very _private_ thing. And I promise it will not harm you in any way.“ She answered and let her fingers slide over his cheek. „But you must know about it before we continue.” she explained with a chuckle. „Otherwise you might be caught by surprise and get scared.“

Magic _was_ an issue and the way he frowned now told her that bringing it up had been right. He would probably have freaked out if it had hit him without warning. His amber eyes suddenly held a distant fear and his body language told her that he was torn between his lust and the urge to step away from a dangerous situation.

„What are you talking about? Do you use magic for sex?“ his voice began to shake and some pearls of sweat were forming on his forehead. This seemed to be far too close to some very bad memories that began to crawl back to the surface at once. His encounter with the desire demon back in his days at the circle still haunted him and made him vulnerable and fearsome whenever it came to magic. His hand slipped off, away from her skin.

She knew she had to explain fast before the mood and the moment would have been gone.

„I don’t _use_ it. It simply appears. I had an accident years ago... It’s just some colors that appear around me when I...“ it sounded so stupid when put into words. Stupid and mundane. But she had to speak it out loud. „Cullen, when I come, I start to glow for a while. Blue or violet. It doesn’t do anything. It’s just there. I did not choose to have it and I can’t make it go away. Only way, if you can’t stand it, would be holding myself back. I would do that if you ask me to. But if so, you can not try to make me come in any way. If you can't stand it we must stop right here or agree that I simply go on taking care for you tonight. I would not bother right now just you need to know that this is a part of me that won't go away and that I won't be able and for sure not willing to hold back myself forever“

Now she was the one who was vulnerable and feeling awkward. And a bit sad. It had been so natural with Blackwall. No need for explanations ahead, just letting it happen with no holding back.

_No_ , _that was unfair,_ she called her self back to order, there was no point in comparisons like that! Cullen had an unpleasant past with Mages and she needed to respect that because he had trusted her first by telling her about his issues.

Cullen had to take his time to let sink in what he just learned. It seemed as he had assumed earlier: She was ready to flinch and run away. But for completely another reason than he had thought.

Now he had to figure out what to do with what she just told him and what it meant for anything else. Could he ever stand to have magic around in such an intimate moment? He was not sure.

Slowly he rested his head back on her chest. Placing a soft kiss where he heard her heart. It was beating very fast.

„Does it hurt you?“ He asked and she laughed bitterly.

„This fucking mark on my hand hurts. But not my glowing.“ Of course she had recognized that his first concern was her well being in this matter. She was sure he would have stopped everythingat once, if she would be in pain because of it and she found his concern adorable.

He swallowed. He wanted her. Just feeling her skin and hearing her heart beat made him happy and it gave him the strength to stay. Cullen made a decision. He would never know if he could stand it if he won’t try. And she was worth trying. „So no one gets harmed? Just a glow? No sparks, no heat? Just color?“ his hand was probing forward. Hesitant. Careful. Insecure. The lightest of touch on her belly and it made her whimper in anticipation.

„Just a glow.“ She breathed under a little groan.

He was caressing her skin, slowly exploring until his hand lingered on her delta for a moment without rushing forward. As if he had to gather the courage to go on.

„Thank you for telling me. Means a lot.“ His smile was sweet. „May I now try to give some of the pleasure back to you that you just gave me?“ he finally asked and she nodded permission already biting her lower lip.

„Come closer, Arya. Let me feel you.“

She slipped into his embrace, still laying on her back and when he bent his head to kiss her, her lips were warm and soft on his. Then he broke the kiss to be able to look at her while he continued to touch her.

She rested herself on both her elbows to be able to see what he did with his hand. Her eyes wandered between his hand and his eyes and back and both sights were adding on to her growing arousal.

He may have left the daily soldiers’ work but his hands were still those of a warrior. Broad, rough and used to have a hard grip on a weapon. She loved to see how the muscles and tendons under his slightly tanned skin worked while he tried to be careful when he explored her sensitive areas. Golden hair on his forearm like spider webs in the candlelight, prominent veins leaving shadows on his skin and the sensation of calloused fingers softly between her legs. “Open up, love.” He bid. “Let’s see what more pleasures I can give you.”

He had not to ask a second time and when he finally touched her soft sensitive flesh they both groaned.

“Maker, how wet you are. How hot and wet.” And he began to caress her. Careful and soft. More to adjust himself to the new situation than to actually stimulate her. But of course his fingers on her heat caused reaction and she bit her lower lip softly moaning when he followed her inner folds to finally find her most sensual spot and when he touched it she whimpered once more.

He continued exploring her lust and how he could increase it for her.

While her moans intensified he found out that she liked it best when he drew circles on her clit. First he had tried a single finger but she had put her hand on his, directing him softly to try more fingers with his flat hand. He wanted to thank her for the help but she just groaned and closed his mouth with another kiss. Seeing her lust building slowly while his treatments got more intense and faster as he felt she needed that, soon made his own desire build up again. A blush was slowly soaring her cleavage, her husky gasps and her voice whispering his name were alluring and soon he felt his cock harden again. When she recognized him moving against her thigh to feel the sensation that the pressure and her skin gave him, her hand reached out and circled around him, rubbing and teasing until he was lying hot and throbbing in her hand.

„You want me again inside you, love?” he asked barely able to breath.

She had sworn to herself not to shock him with bluntness the first time they’d be together but now it slipped. „Cullen, just stop talking and fuck me senseless!”

His hand held still in the middle of his ministrations and his eyes went big for a second. He was not used to language like this in the bedroom but on the other hand he knew that Arya was not squeamish over her speech in general. And to be really, really honest the blunt words in her mouth gave him a strangely alluring kick just the moment she spoke and so he resumed rubbing her even more intense than just a moment before and murmured the only thing he could think of before he slid over her again and pushed himself into her swollen and wet heat: „Aye, my lady!”

 


	12. The days after la grâce de la veuve - Val Royeaux - Brooding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Aryas visit in the Val Royeaux prison, the man who had called himself Blackwall is caught in between hope, grief and the wish to die as he sees no other way to atone for his crimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter featuring a brooding Blackwall.

* * *

 

_Why?_

It had been all settled and he had accepted his faith. An ending. A conclusion. Finally what he deserved: Death!

He even had been ready to suffer until the end would come and he had welcomed the sweet darkness of not feeling anything anymore. But the numbness that had made it possible to endure this place and the despair was gone now. Now that he knew _she_ had come to Val Royeaux for him. After he had seen her. Had spoken to her. Now it was all back in his head and there were sparks deep within he could neither silence nor ignore. She had lightened those sparks just by showing up and he wanted to hate her for it but just couldn’t.

He forbid himself to hope for rescue or forgiveness. He should only wait for his end to come. And he was ready for it. But still, the thoughts did not stop spinning circles in his head.

She was not his anymore. He was sure of that. This strange scent on her when she was close to him down there in that damned interrogation cell. The smell of another man on the woman he loved. Her denial had felt only halfhearted to him. So he was certain that his assumption was right.

 _This_ haunted him more than it should. There were other things that he better should contemplate over than his pointless jealousy and about a love he’d never had been worthy of having. But the pictures kept luring into his mind and kept on torturing him with memories he failed to stand: Arya in his arms. Visions from the time when he was allowed to make love to her. Smiling, daring, wanting him. Her soft skin glowing in the moonlight, her lips on his. Kissing, licking, biting. Her voice husky when she whispered words of lust and love. Groaning a name that was as borrowed as the happiness that he never had the right to live with her. He needed to get rid of those memories. She belonged to Cullen now and he once even had encouraged the Commander to take care of her in case something would happen to him. He had forfeit his right to be with her. A right that had never been his. She was in good and faithful hands now, he knew that. He had lost her love by betraying her. Cullen was a good man and he would do what ever it took to protect her and to make her happy. He assured himself that it was better this way.

And yet it hurt. More than anything.

He paced around in his dirty cell. The catatonia had turned into the urge to move. He would have hit something, broke things if there only would have been anything to break.

Too many questions. His brain could not stop thinking as his feet could not stop moving. Ever coming back to the same questions, recalling the few moments she had been here.

Why in the Makers name had she come after him at all? Making up such a drama with this _grâce de la veuve_? Was this punishment? Torture?

She had mentioned it had been hard to get into the prison at all. This could be a possible explanation. She had claimed the interest of the Inquisition in his person, but he knew Orlesian politics. They would find excuses to make it harder, not to say impossible to take what she'd claimed. Getting their hands on Thom Rainier after so many years, no Orlesian official would let go off him easily or even risk to lose him now he finally was captured.

So the Inquisition might had to spend a lot of gold and effort to find a way beyond official permits to even see him. Wasting valuable resources on him. Bribing officials, asking favors, using connections that might have been put to better use elsewhere. All this only to come to speak with him.

He groaned in agony. More things to feel sorry for. They were wasting resources and gold on him. For what?He had nothing to give. Nothing but the guilt of a man who was not worth the air he breathed.

Sometimes when the despair rose too high, he slammed his fist against the walls or the metal bars that formed the door to his cell. Then the restless pacing began again.

Telling her about his life had been incredible painful. Putting the spot on so many wrong decisions. Showing her who he really was. How despicable. Thom Rainier was not a man he would liked to have an ale with.

Sure there were times there had been nothing but laughter and everything was fun and games.

Times when he had no care in the world except where he would get the next cigar and a good old red from and the most urgent thing was how to get his hand or other bits under the crinoline of some busty noble wife with bad manners behind the prudish façade and weird kinks once he had teared this façade down.

Fact was, going on to pretend he was someone else was pointless and no option anymore. He was Thom Rainier and he hated it. Hated himself. Becoming Blackwall had made it so much easier to believe he could be better. Become finally someone who may be worthy to live. To love. But it had been just an illusion. Everything.

And as he had spent his time before her visit in a stoic denial of any motion, sitting numb and catatonic for days, now he was walking up and down the few steps possible in his dark and dirty prison cell without pause. Just interrupted by pointless hits against the moldy walls with his fists and flat hands. The last remains of vitality and life still lingering within seemed to urge to the surface and made him restless, arguing with himself about the waste of precious life that his existence was. He already had walked a path through the dirty rugs. At least the rats had fled so there was no need anymore to defend his small rations of bread and moldy water.

The dreams that haunted him varied now. Guilty Visions from his past turned into dreams of atonement, freedom, love and happiness. Waking up from those dreams, his face wet from tears that he only could cry while sleeping, was terrifying. The hints of hope were taunting him. Letting him think that there could be a way out of here. Until he opened his eyes and realized who he was and where he was.

Even if she would have still wanted him, she would not be able to get him out of this place. Orlais would never let their grip off Thom Rainier the traitor.

And he did not want it either. Except in the loneliness of his desperate and uncontrollable dreams that were alluring and hopeless at the same time.

Why in the Makers' name would she even try to save him? He was despicable. A liar. A monster. And no matter what he did to help the Inquisition before, nothing could compensate his crimes. Not even if she still would have loved him.

He wished himself back into the catatonia but already knew he would not find it back.

He only could wait and hope for a quick end.

 


	13. The night after la grâce de la veuve - Val Royeaux - Inquisition Embassy - Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The "morning after" and how Cullen can handle Aryas "magical extra" plus some fuffy sex talk and an unexpected appearance of someone who may become important in the future...  
> But more important: What will become of Rainier in the Orlesian prison?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My interpretation of the talk Cullen and Arya have ingame standing in the hallway of the prison.

* * *

 

Cullen was lying on his side. Still skin on skin, still his breath a bit faster than usual. His head, the hair curly and tousled, rested on his elbow, watching with awe how the dark blue-violet glow around Aryas body slowly faded. Softly his fingers trailed over her arm, her shoulder. A low throaty chuckle when his fingers passed a ticklish area at her neck.

He felt comfortable, a bit less burdened, as if he had himself conquered a little space of freedom, the chance to breathe a bit lighter. It had been a bit of a challenge, nevertheless. He had experienced a glimpse of panic rise up when the glowing began. Had to hold still a second to focus and made himself stay and wait what would happen if he stayed and continued what he did. He wanted to see, it simply did not feel as if it could do any harm to him. And he did not want to spoil it for her. And then the lust to see her come within that soft glow took over he was able to let himself go, too to join her in her climax.

Now he felt almost peaceful within the fading blueish light.

“You alright Cullen?” she asked in a low voice after a while of silence and he raised his head and brought his lips to hers for a soft kiss.

“I don't want it to be over.” he whispered between several idle kisses, soft and warm on lips and cheeks and neck. And there was no way to tell whether he meant the moment, her glowing or just _everything_ that seemed to be possible right now.

„So you can handle my odd mage thing?“ she caressed his chest with the backside of her hand. Soft blond hair on velvet skin and the muscles of a warrior. She loved that feeling under her hands.

He smiled and kissed her again. „It’s not odd. It is beautiful. Like you. Thank you for sharing this with me. I’ll never forget it no matter what will come upon us.“

„This sounds rather sad, Cullen.“ she frowned.

„Maybe a bit melancholic, _my lady Inquisitor_. “ Arya chuckled a bit when he teased her with her title but the pain showed on her face when he resumed. „Maker knows what will be. There are tasks ahead. We must talk. But I don’t want to. Not now. Personally I would prefer if we never bring it up again. But as Commander of the Inquisition I understand it’s inevitable.“

„Me won’t talk either now. Can we just be here, pretending there is no world outside this room for a little while longer?“ her eyes became sad. He could see it even in the flickering twilight of the candles, which were almost burned down by now. Only few hours were left until the next day would begin and they would have to go back to their responsibilities. He wanted to preserve this little island of borrowed happiness. Stretch it out as long as possible. Wanted to see her smile, giving what he could give to make her happy even for a short amount of time. He felt as if he couldn’t bear any more tears falling from her eyes. He wished to make her smile and give her time to rest. No matter how hard it was going to get afterwards, he would endure it. This here was worth it, he told himself and almost believed it when he put a playful smile on his face and offered:

„I hereby gift to you the rest of this night until the light of dawn, my lady.“ Cullen felt lighthearted and even a bit bold when the corners of her mouth curled to a little smile.

„I accept your generous offer, Ser.“ she jumped into his light tone and he drew her closer and turned around until he was on his back with her on top. She rested her chin on his chest and watched him from where she was in the flickering candlelight. One finger carefully followed the scar on his upper lip and he blew a soft kiss on her fingertip. She wanted to ask where he'd gotten it but remained silent for she felt it was not time and place for talking scars.

„Did you enjoy?“ he eventually asked with a soft voice that tried to hide a hint of insecurity. „I mean... Arya... I just want you to be happy...“ he felt his ears warming and the blush was crawling up his cheeks while he more and more stumbled over his words.

She stretched herself on him until she could reach his lips with hers. „Sure I did. What’s this about, Cullen?“ she asked with a smile that encouraged him to find the right words.

„That night, when I asked you… back there in the tent, I mean...you said you are _into a lot of things_.“ He chuckled, finally feeling a bit more comfortable again. „Something I should know about?“

„And you?“ she turned it back on him and he recognized with a sudden blush that she began to move against him again. Small idle circles on his midst. Delicate teasing and the blushing intensified.

„Me?“ he laughed and the feeling of awkwardness was right back again and without realizing it, he scratched he back of his neck like he always did when he felt insecure. „I’m not a very interesting person when it comes to this matters, I think.“

She laughed. „We would not be here if I wouldn’t think you were interesting, sweets. But why do you think I am so much different to what you are?“ she bent her head to the side and watched him with soft eyes.

„Umm, I thought maybe you are more into… kinky stuff... I don’t know... last time... you were different... and all those marks...“ he softly touched an almost faded hickey on her shoulder that finally had turned into a fading yellow and soon would be gone completely.

Arya sighed. „Really, Cullen? You want to talk to me about what _Black_... ummm...“ she could not bring herself to say this other name that still sounded so wrong. She still could not relate it to the man she loved so she chose the most neutral term: „What I do with other people in bed?“

„If it’s something you need to have to be happy, yes, I would like to hear about it.“ he replied and drew her closer again, feeling a confusing arousal from talking about having sex while a naked woman was on top of him, doing alluring things with her midst on his. How could she just keep talking so calm?

„All is fine, Cullen. Just be as you are and leave it as it is. We may find the time to explore further playgrounds together but I’m sure right now is not this time with all its obstacles and decisions ahead. A wonder how we are even here _now._ Together, finally...“ she shrugged and he chuckled.

„You may be right, love. Nevertheless I’m happy as we are now and though the times are odd I’m sure we’ll overcome. One way or another.“

She nodded but her smile had already a bit faded as she repeated: „One way or another.“

* * *

They had made love another time before dawn. Another exchange of gentle touches and kisses until they both found relief surrounded by soft blue light again. Cullen was quieter now, knowing there was nothing to fear from her magic and overall feeling more confident that she liked what he had to offer in bed. He only prayed that they would have enough time to explore their lust together now that he got a glimpse of things he might love to try with her, too.

Finally they had fallen asleep. Tired as they were, obviously deep enough not to wake up in time so the daylight and the noises of a big household in the busy morning hours woke them up instead.

They had overslept!

 

Shuffling feet in Cullens office and a young woman's voice first humming, then giggling. The sound of porcelain clinging as a tray was put down on a table and more shuffling feet and the vague sound of several different things as they were picked up and put back on the desk.

Arya cursed under her breath and jumped up immediately to collect her clothes but then she realized most of them were still in the office. Cullen jumped, too and put a finger on his lips. Then he rushed into his breeches and almost ran into his office to gather all the clothes they had left all over the room last night.

His ears already were burning when he passed the blonde Elvhen guard who had brought in his morning tea and the first reports and now was standing there blushed and petrified to see her Commander running around, collecting clothes from the floor with nothing on but his breeches and with a red face and unable to even say proper morning greetings.

Just when he finally had all the missing clothes and was already about to hurry back into his rooms, he suddenly hesitated and turned half around. Looking at the young guard with an inspecting look. He had to clear his throat but then he addressed the soldier. „Thank you for the breakfast, lieutenant...” err… lieutenant…?”

„Firgo Lavellan. Commander… Ser.”

„Good then, back to work, Firgo Lavellan. And...” the blush was back. „I'm sure I can confide in your… discretion...”

„Sure, Ser.” mumbled the girl with her face almost as red as his, eyes pinned on the floor counting tiles. When she realized, that he just had dismissed her, she turned on her heels and almost ran off.

 

Arya could not dress properly because most of her upper clothing was ripped apart in some way but she had managed to hold the Jacket together in a decent and inconspicuous way when she stepped one last time over to Cullen and let him embrace her and they melted into one last kiss that marked the end of this night.

„Thank you, Cullen. For your honesty. Your passion. And for your love.“ she sighed. “I will go now. Have me some time to think about everything so far. We will talk later about Black... Rainier and what will be.“

He rested his forehead against hers for a moment.

„I am the one to be thankful. And take your time for consideration. I’ll be right here when you need me.“

She nodded and left his room heading to her own with the untouched bed to dress up properly and then she fled into the gardens to be on her own for a while, processing and understanding what was happening with her life.

* * *

Arya Trevelyan was all business when she walked back into Cullens office a few hours later. No sign of affection or any cheeky reference regarding the desk where, after all, their encounter from last night had started. Cullen was grateful for that. The matter of discussion was a difficult one not only because of Rainiers betrayal but for the unusual constellation of their own relationships and so he appreciated that she was able to keep it as neutral as possible.

Arya reported what she learned in the prison the day before and asked him in return to fill in possible blanks from what he knew from his reports.

She listened and considered everything he said, only when he came to Leliana she was not even willing to hear his justifications for the spymaster and her possible motives.

Cullen realized, that this talk might mark a turning point in his life. He was well aware that his opinion mattered to Arya and if he had been another man he may have used this knowledge to influence her into a way that suited him and his feelings for her. But when she asked him directly for his personal opinion he could do nothing but tell her the truth.

As a soldier, a commanding officer, he deeply despised what Rainier had done and he did not sugarcoat this opinion. But also he showed his respect to the deeds the warrior had accomplished for the Inquisition after taking the late Wardens identity.

„He was on a good path and did good work. Should have found peace after all the wrecked past he had. No one would probably have ever found out. I fail to understand why he gave himself over to the authorities now.“ Cullen ended not exactly with a question but Arya answered anyway:

„He did it for me.“

Cullen flinched but tried not to show it. „How so?“ he asked instead.

„Done with lying, I guess. Now that there was something more serious than just having a good time and banging the pretty Inquisitor...“

„It has never been just this for him, trust me with this, Arya.“ He withstand the urge to get up and walk over to her and simply hold her. This was not time and place and he felt that possibly _he_ was the one who needed to be held more than she did right now.

„How can you know this, Cullen?“ she asked and he took a deep breath. This was probably the most painful conversation he ever had.

„We are men, Arya. Warriors and we are much more alike than you may think. And we talked. Also about you.“ He hurried to continue when he saw how one of her eyebrows arched. „When it comes to his love for you he is as genuine as I am. About the other matters I already told you what I think. If it is as you said, that he turned himself in for the sake of the love he has for you, In my opinion you should be the one to decide what shall happen to him. You should be the one judging and not some greedy Orlesian nobles who just want to use him as a useful and dispensable chess piece in their _Game_. He may deserve punishment but I think he already redeemed himself enough to earn him a fair judgment. The Inquisition has connections and resources enough to find one way or another to bring him back to Skyhold.“

She considered. Then nodded. „Thank you Cullen for your insights. I tend to agree with you. I’m still not sure what he really deserves but I won’t let him to die among those masked assholes. We get him out of that prison. Everything else will turn out later.“ she got up with a stiff motion, greeted him with a formal nod and left him with no further word.

Long after she was gone, Cullen realized that he still held his breath and let it out with a long sigh.

 


	14. 14 days after la grâce de la veuve – Val Royeaux – prison and beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter on how the man who had called himself Blackwall undergoes his liberation out of the Orlesian prison.

* * *

 

Though he might have dreamed about it and some little part inside him maybe even had secretly wished for it, he was not happy when he realized that the Inquisition had managed to free him.

When the Orlesian henchmen had come, taking him from his cell, blindfolding and dragging him out, he had almost felt at peace. _Off to the gallows_. Finally. Closure and relief was close and his pain and guilt would come to an end.

They had pushed him forward and thrown him into some kind of cage. Rough planks that beside the usual reek of waste, blood and fear still held some distant scent of raw wood. A heavy wooden door slammed and a key was screeching ugly inside a keyhole. When the cage finally began to move, he realized that he most likely was in a kind of carriage.

Still shackled and with a smelly cloth over his eyes he only could guess and was not able to really figure out what was happening when the ride eventually stopped. He heard yelling but failed to understand the words. Then the sound of a brawl, horses shrieking, more carriages on the road, hissed orders and finally the carriage he was locked in started to move again. Faster now and obviously forcing the whole thing into a tight u-turn and when he couldn’t find a grip on anything he was tossed around in the raw wooden cage and splinters of wood cut his already bruised skin.

He began to riot inside his moving prison when the ride lasted longer and longer. Too long to not have reached the gallows in Val Royeaux by now. He tried to figure out what was going on. Counting options. Failed.

When he realized that this was either an attempt to kidnap him or someone was trying to free him he already was in a blind rage. He did not know who this people were or why they did what they did. He did not care either. He only felt betrayed for his death and the mere reactions he had left were blasphemous curses and wordless roars and grunts that reminded of a wounded angry bear who had stepped into a honeytrap.

He threw himself against the planks to find a way out but the wood was stronger and finally he realized that he would never break it.

They left him in the carriage. Not even spoke to him for what must have been more than two days. By then he was still bickering and shouting when they finally came - five strong men were necessary to keep him in check – they provided with food and clean clothes and they put away the disgusting blindfold. Later he was already too exhausted to fight anyone. Hooded schemes, no talk, no heraldry, nothing for him to guess. They left him shackled but the food was better now and they let him out two times a day to go relieve himself a few steps beside the street. There was only one guard with him then and he knew he could easily make an attempt that would force the poor man to kill him off. Or just hit the guy and run. Even in his plight he would still be able to surprise him.

But he did neither.

Someone had put a lot of effort and presumable gold into this mission and he wanted to see who this was.

When he finally realized that they were heading towards Skyhold, for a second his heart jumped. Back to _her!_ She had freed him. But the same second he thought this, he already felt guilty and hopeless again and the ever lasting question remained:

Why?

 


	15. 21 days after la grâce de la veuve – Skyhold – Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that she decided to take Rainier from prision, Arya Trevelyan realizes that there will only by place in her heart for one man... She must make a decision and like always when she feels pressed to decide anything... she runs. Off to Emprise du Lion this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some sweet sad Cullen brooding. I just want to cuddle him :(

* * *

Cullen still was standing on the battlements, long time after the party had vanished beyond the horizon. He already missed her. More than ever. Funny how fast one got used to waking up next to a warm and soft body in the morning. Sweet mumbled words of affection before even fully awake. Or the comfort of a pair of arms to rest in after a long and stressful day. Words of lust stammered in the heat of lovemaking. He already found way too much comfort in having her in his life. In his bed. He kept telling himself to stay reasonable and not entangling himself into too many feelings until this matter finally would come to a conclusion. But it was hard and kept getting harder. Aryas departure now hurt, but he had to admit it would help to regain some distance so he could prepare for the upcoming decisions. And there _would_ be finally decisions, he felt that. And part of him even welcomed it.

He kept on wondering what the future would bring, now that Rainier was expected to be back every day.

Arya had left instructions to keep him in custody until she would be back and ready to judge him. Proper food, clean clothes, a place to wash and a latrine, Healers - but still imprisoned.

Cullen knew that this upcoming judgment would mean more but the fate of Thom Rainier. All their future was at stake now. His, Aryas and Rainiers. He had thought it over again and again. He knew his chances were small but he would only let go off his hope the moment she would tell him right in the face that its over. As long as there was the slightest hope, that she could make her decision to his favors he would never give up on it.

Their farewell this morning had been melancholic and passionate but he could not tell what this was telling about their relationship or its future.

And the time _never_ had been right for talk.

Arya had not been able to stay long at Skyhold after they had returned from Val Royeaux. Just a short stay for taking reports, changing mounts and pack warm things and now she was off again to a first scouting mission to Emprise du Lion which she had scheduled literally from one day to another.

She had done that before. It was her way to deal with things she was not sure how to handle: _She ran._

She had taken Bull, Varric and Dorian with her and Cullen knew how stressful this assignment had been. First time building a field party without Blackwall. Cullen had been with her, when she went through her options, had discussed them with him. He had been joking, or at least half joking that he would love to join her into the fields for the mission. She had smiled a weak little smile, had kissed him and then she had dismissed this possibility with the (legitimate) necessity having the Commander of the troops back at Skyhold. Of course all she said was legit. But he felt sad over her kind rejection and he knew it was ridiculous because nothing would have changed if she'd said ' _I'd love that._ ' just for kindness.

Cullen remembered the days they had spent in Val Royeaux and their journey back to Skyhold after she had decided that the Inquisition would free Rainier for judgment.

It had been like a desperate attempt on pretending everything was normal and would lead to a happy ending for them. An elopement from what was to come and what would be inevitable.

Their days had been hard work as usual. Trying to keep the Inquisitions business up and deciding as much as could be decided from their current abode. Making plans on how to get their hands on Rainier after the Orlesian officials destroyed all their hopes of negotiation.

A raven arrived with the Nightingales’ plan to switch prisoners on the way to the gallows. There was a person in the Inquisitions’ hands that matched Rainiers semblance. The man had already a death sentence on him, so it seemed not to matter where and under what name it would carried out. This solution would silence Orlais and divert the attention from the Inquisition and Aryas actions no matter what she would decide in her judgment. Cullen had opted for a more direct approach by sending troops into the prison to just drag Rainier out and back to Skyhold and Josephine offered to call in some more favors to take him over almost officially. It would cost a lot but it was doable.

No one had expected it since she had been so mad with Leliana about her performance in this matter so far, but Arya went with the prisoner switch. She decided fast and there was no more arguing with her about it afterward. Not that Cullen hadn’t tried. She was aware that her decision would be held against her and the Inquisition because it was a shady and dirty way. But it bought her more time to think as she had told him right away. She cut down every further objection and any concern. He was sure she was arguing with herself about inflicting bloodshed for a more or less personal matter but she kept her doubts and feelings of being selfish and maybe even corrupt for herself.

Their presence in Val Royeaux was no longer necessary, once this last decision was made and they prepared for their depart with no more delay.

The nights were different. As if they had quietly decided not to talk about what pressed most, they fell into each other night after night as soon as the Embassy went to sleep. One or two times Arya had sneaked into his office after everything became quiet while Cullen still sat on his desk. She headed directly into his sleeping room and he hurried to finish what ever he was working on to follow her as fast as he could. Because he would find her in his bed, already undressed and eager to please him and finally finding relief under his loving caresses in a desperate rush of feelings.

But most of the time it was Cullen who was sneaking into her rooms after all work was done. Usually finding her, sitting by the fire, staring into the flames the parchments or the book in her lap forgotten for Maker knows how long. When he found her like that, he knelt and slung his arms around her from behind, already knowing that they would not talk much but making love until they fell into a unresting sleep that none of them would wake up refreshed from.

She was so sweet with him when they were in bed. Never letting him feel that she most probably was having a million other things on her mind but him. She was all his when she was with him and showing him love and affection. Sometimes she tried to hide some tears when they were laying in the blueish afterglow but of course he recognized it. Pulling her closer, holding her when she wiped them away in an embarrassed but at the same time stubborn attempt to pretend she was strong. He offered to listen but she just shook her head. He knew she would talk when she was ready so he let her be and simply kissed her tears away.

Cullen was no fool and though it was tempting to ignore the reality he tried to keep always in mind that this was probably all he would ever have with her. It was easy to forget when he thought about how much he loved the sex with her. She was hot. Imagining her with his cock in her mouth or when she was riding him made him shiver. Hearing her groan his name when she was coming in a wave of beautiful bliss of blue light was one of the best experiences he ever had. Beside that she was sweet and caring and he just felt safe and home when he was with her.

But for his own and the Makers sake he always tried to be prepared that this sweetness might end one day soon. There was another man and though Cullen was sure her feelings for him were genuine, he knew and tried to never forget that she always had felt the same way (if not more) for Blackwall.

What she felt now for _Rainier_? Impossible to say. So one little spark deep inside Cullen never wanted to give up hope that this complicated times may be just a beginning of something deeper with her.

Suddenly he became aware how cold it already was and that he still was standing on the ramparts though there was no one to see anymore. He was freezing and dragged his coat around his body and finally dragged his gaze away from the horizon and his thoughts from Arya Trevelyan. He headed towards his tower where he could bury himself with work. Maybe he would try to write her a letter but he had no idea what to say beside the things she already knew but which probably would not change anything if he told them again: How much he loved her and that she would make him a happy man if she decides to stay with him.

She had left to Emprise du Lion to make a decision and he knew there would come a change, one way or another, once she returned. Cullen was relieved and sad at the same time.

 


	16. 21 days after la grâce de la veuve – Skyhold – another prison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thom Rainier, the man we knew as Blackwall is back at Skyhold. Waiting for his judgment in an Inquisition cell. Doing what he does best: brooding.

* * *

He was home and he wasn’t. It was Skyhold. He knew it almost from how the air smelled even though he was still imprisoned deep down in the deep, dark belly of the keep. It was more home to him than he ever had one since his childhood, ages ago in the Free Marches.

There were still bars that locked him away from the world. He was still somewhere beyond the surface and it was always more dark than light so he still failed to tell whether it was day- or nighttime most of the time.

But he had nothing to object. He deserved no better place. To be honest he did not even deserve to be here at all. He should have already found his end on the Orlesian gallows. But Arya Trevelyan had decided to claim the right to judge over his fate. It did not even matter whether he agreed to that or not, it would happen anyway. Sometimes he called himself to order. She did not deserve such bitter sentiments. But sometimes, when he struggled by simply keeping his sanity for another day he was mumbling bitter curses on her name just to feel deeply ashamed about it five minutes later.

He did not care about decent food and healers. It did not matter to him that they granted him always enough water to drink, to clean himself and having an acceptable place to piss and shite now. Only thing he cared about was, why he was here and what she had planned that should become of him now.

But even after a week of brooding in solitude nothing ever happened.

  
Three times a day a silent soldier brought him his meals but he did not bother to press any information out oft he lad when he realized, that he might have orders not to speak to the traitor or most likely don’t even know a thing. So why putting the boy into trouble?

He wondered, when _she_ would come to see him. If she would come at all.

Only thing he was sure of was that he would not have been alive anymore without her interference. No one else would have made this effort but he failed to understand why _she_ had bothered to do so. What was she thinking? Freeing him first from Orlais and letting him now rot or go insane in an Inquisition prison? Another form of torture? Revenge? Was Arya Trevelyan a cruel mind? No she wasn’t. He was sure. Quick temper and ruthless in fight. But whenever she sat on judgment she had been hard but fair. - and quick. But why the delay now with his case.? And what would she expect from him? Being thankful? Or having him in her dept? Him becoming her pet? Her slave or servant? Having another cheap ( but good) sword for the ranks of Inquisition?

He had no idea what _he_ wanted. Felt in no position to wish for anything but a quick death. But she would not grant him that, he was sure so he had no clue what else he could hope for instead.

* * *

Then, one day suddenly the far door creaked and there were light, fast and sneaky sounds on the floor. The steps of a person lurking in the shadows. He already knew it was not Arya but it also was not the usual soldier bringing his food.

Nevertheless it was unexpected as far as he already had decided that they all would forget him in here. He did not bother to look up. It did not matter. At least he tried to make himself believe that.

„You look shite with no proper beard, Beardy. Not even your name fits! That's piss!”

„You have no other worries, Sera?” he snarled but inside he felt a strange warmth when he heard her voice. He pretended he did not care she was here. But he did. So much.

„Nope. Want a cookie?” with no further effort, she sat down on the floor, her back leaning against the bars that kept him away from freedom. Holding her arm over her head, reaching out backwards with a cookie in her hand towards him as far as she could lean inside his cell. He hesitated then stretched out his hand and took the round little piece of baked dough. Usually he was not much into sweets but this mundane little thing he took as careful as it was made from pure gold.

Sera said nothing.

He ate the cookie. Careful. Bite after bite. First testing if his stomach would accept it. Then savoring the taste. The scent. The texture, the feeling of crumbles and chocolate in his mouth. And when he became aware how much he loved it, guilt flooded his mind and he swallowed the last bit all at once. He should not enjoy. This was no longer for him.

At some point the silent Sera unnerved him more than the chatting one. And he blurted: „So?”

„So what?” she sneered back, mimicking his harsh tone almost perfectly.

„Coming to see the guilty old man before he rots?”

„Pfffh, stop shiting on yourself. You done wrong. A shit pile of wrong! Now you got punishment. That's what stupid people get, right?” she clearly was not impressed. Still sitting with her back to him but he had to admit, it made it easier to talk.

„What's your point Sera. I'm running out of patience.” he growled under his breath.

„I don't see you running anywhere, Beardy! Because bars, you know?” she banged one of her little fierce fists against the metal that kept him away from the world and snickered as she usually did when she invented a poor pun.

„Funny!”

„I know!”

„So she's punishing me by forgetting me in here?” he bit his tongue the second the words had rumbled out but of course Sera would not just leave it like that. Poking as soon as she found out there was something to poke into.

„I knew it! You are still into her. All about Quizzie all the time, right? No way to deny, I know you, filthy old dude. So many feels for sweet little Quizzie. But you fucked up, you idiot.” cackling laughter followed her speech and his head sank down on his chest.

„I know. But it's better this way. She's better off with Cullen.” he sighed.

„Ah, stupid! She's only started shagging the sweet little Commander after you fucked up with her that night in that ugly prison. Before that… no way. Never.” she thought about the things she just had announced, then shook her head and affirmed: „No… definitely no shagging. Only after this weird Orlesian widow thingie that they made up for you.”

„How can you know?”

„Curly got puppy eyes. I know people. He had always puppy eyes for her but after that prison night it got worse, _blearch_!” she made a disgusted noise.

„It does not matter when it started.” He insisted. Wanted to end that topic but at the same time needed to know. Sucking up all the information. The simple fact that finally someone bothered to speak with him. It was overwhelming. „She is with Cullen now and it's not important when it started. She shall be happy. She’s better off without me.“

„Piss!” more ugly noises. „Did you not listen? They are just _fucking_ , right? He can has puppy eyes as much as he wants but your sweet _'my lady'_ is still crying her eyes out for you. Got me, Beardy? All those weird feels for you, still there.”

„It does not matter anymore what they do and what you think the Inquisitor might feel. It ended the day I left her. I fucked up, destroyed all we had and I don't have any right to judge what she does now. She shall leave me here and forget me if she pleases.“ He was not to convince or willing to change his mind and finally Sera got impatient and jumped to her feet and turned around.

„Listen Beardy, your precious lady is not here. Left to Emprise du Lion weeks ago. Ask me? She _ran_. Killing demons better than thinking and feeling. I know about that. I stick arrows into them, she sticks lightning. Same shit! She got you here not for nothing. She could let you die there where the prisons are so black and dirty as the city is all gold and shiny things. _Think_ , pissbucket, one time in your wasted shitty arse piss life _think_ and don't mess this up again, got me?” Sera stepped closer to the bars and for the first time after she came down here she dared to take a closer look into the cell and look her friend into the eyes. She swallowed. Hard. Would not let him see the tears which she felt crawling up her throat and made her ears twitch. „Don't. Mess. Up. Again! Hear me?” she pressed out between clenched teeth, turned around abruptly and ran off.

 


	17. 60 days after la grâce de la veuve – Skyhold – decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya returns from her Mission to Emprise du Lion and she needs a serious talk with Cullen about the future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably one of the sadest things I have ever written. Keep your tissues close (I'm looking at you Cullenites)

* * *

 

„Hello Cullen.“ Her soft voice made him look up in surprise. She had sneaked into his office so quiet that he almost jumped. Of course he already knew she was back at Skyhold. The party had returned earlier that day but he had not been able to bring himself to go down to the yards and welcome her in public.

It was not that he was not happy to see her back. Cullen was more than happy about it for so many reasons. And now his heart was beating faster just because she was here, just because she came to see him. After all this time his heart was still jumping when he just saw her. Nevertheless, today there also laid a pinch of fear and sadness within his joy. Things that had been left unspoken, undecided when she departed all in a rush.

He got up from his seat and came across the room and they melt into an embrace. Her warmth and the feeling of her heart beating fast against his chest in which his own heart was already running fiercely. Her sweet scent that reminded him on caramel. He wanted to kiss her but he did not know if he was still allowed to do it. So he let his lips only brush over her temple and held her for a moment longer.

„Happy, you are back.” he said and he kept his voice low so she would not hear his voice tremble. „Did everything go as we have planned down there in Empris du Lion?”

She nodded and stepped back. Building distance, as he realized.

„We were successful. Closed some annoying rifts, claimed the lower areas and secured the village. Lots of resources, I wonder how it will go when we return and go further.”

He chuckled. „Cold and nasty I assume.” he replied and she smiled, too. But her fatigue showed. Poor attempts to suppress her yawns and he was missing her usual body tension as she had fallen into some sloppy body posture. Her clenching hands gave away how insecure she was.

Cullen sighed silently. This was not going to be a report meeting. It would be personal and obviously it was important enough to put it before sleep and rest. He swallowed, not sure if he really wanted to know. „I tried to write.” he began, a little weary and just to say something „But every time I took the quill I ended up wasting parchment and finally throwing it all into the fire.”

„Same with me.“ Her smile was small and it did not reach her eyes. She had dark circles beneath and her skin was almost ashen.

„You look as you didn’t get much sleep.“ Cullen stated and his fingertips touched her cheek in an uncertain attempt to get back to the closeness they had before she went on the mission. But he already felt that the gap between them had opened again and that there probably won’t be a second chance to close it.

„You, too, look tired, Cullen. Shall we take a little time to speak? I think we finally have to.“

He nodded. The moment he had feared all the way since he obeyed to join her into that dreaded mission to save Thom Rainier was finally here. Cullen took a deep breath and straightened his back. „You are right. Want to go for a walk? I think some fresh air might be good for both of us.“

„I’d like that.“A distant memory of her loving voice when she whispered sweet nothings into his ear while they made love. Cullen tried to fight back the sadness that came along with the memories. He opened one of the side doors and let her out onto the battlements with a little chivalrous gesture. She smiled and he realized that his heart still beat faster when she showed him signs of affection.

They went in silence for a while until they reached a quiet corner at the end of the ramparts. She placed herself on the inner walls, sitting there with tangling legs so she could look Cullen straight into his face as he came to stand in front of her. Just coincidence or a sign that destiny (or the Maker if she would have believed in Him) may have a wicked sense of humor, she always seemed to end up here on the battlements when she had important talks with the men she loved. Arya remembered a similar moment up here. She once came here with Blackwall when she still thought this was his name. She looked into the eyes of the man she was up here with today. Cullen, so sweet and handsome. Careful and adorable in his love. Always patient no matter how often he had to step back. Arya felt like crying.

„It’s going to end today, isn’t it?“ He stepped closer while saying this words. His voice thick with emotion and tears he would himself not allow to cry. The sadness was in his voice, in his eyes, his heart. Everywhere. He needed no answer. Just the look in her eyes.

„It’s not that I don’t love you, Cullen.“ She began, already hating herself for putting up such a poor cliché.

„I know that.“ He replied. Even now that she literally cut his heart out, he managed to stay calm and caring for her more than for himself. Her heart was wrenching when he continued. „Love was never been the question, Arya. But you love _him_ more. You always have. I… w _e_ were fools to think this could ever change.“ He caressed her cheek and both had a hard time to hold back their tears.

„I want you to be happy Cullen.“ She said and finally a single tear formed and slowly rolled down her cheek. „I really thought this strange arrangement could work out somehow but it’s not fair on a long term. For none of you.“ Arya tried to explain but felt, what ever she might say would not be enough.

Cullen was not angry. Sad, yes, incredible sad and feeling hopeless and lost but also relieved that there was at least something certain now.

„You never lied about anything, love. It was only such a sweet hope which I simply never wanted to let go of. Maybe now, that I am forced to, I will finally be able to do forget my dreams about you and me and a future together.“

„Do I have to worry about you?“ she asked with a little sad smile and he smiled back trying to sound confident but was not sure if he was successful.

„I hope you will never stop doing it... I mean... not that you really have to be worried... but...“ he stumbled over his own words and needed a moment to collect himself. „What I want to say is: I will be your friend no matter what will come. Friends care for each other, don’t they?“

„I’m happy you say that.“ She grabbed his hands and squeezed them softly. They were ice cold. And she was sure she felt them tremble. Not to say if she believed in friendship after being lovers once but her smile was soft and soothing when she resumed: „And for sure I'll never stop caring for you.” She could not talk anymore. They were out there in the dark and the howling winds where cold and ripped on their clothes. Cullen felt her shiver and without any further question he opened the clasp of his red coat and wrapped her into it. She was already about to protest but he simply shushed her with a soft gesture and welcomed the chills that ran through his body now helping him to gain back focus and not letting himself be lost in his despair.

„So, you will pardon Rainier?“ Cullen changed the subject, trying to sound professional. He needed to become the Commander now. The soldier who was able to cope with pain by stepping away from personal matters.

She frowned. „I still don’t know what exactly I will do.“ She answered while adjusting to his professional tone. „My personal feelings may tell me what I _want_ to do, but I have to consider so much more. There are still a lot of options from death penalty to handing him over to the Wardens... I really don’t know what is appropriate to do at the moment.“

Cullen needed a moment to understand. He realized that she may end up alone. Neither with him or Rainier and she was taking the risk of losing them both. Their romance would end no matter what was happening to Rainier. He respected that, even though his aching heart wanted him to convince her with sweet words to stay and keep on trying and hoping that things might change. He withstand to beg for another chance with his last remaining pieces of shattered dignity and he wondered if he’d ever been so strong to make such a deep cut. He doubted it. Cullen forced himself to focus back on the matter. Dragging his thoughts away from himself helped him more than anything else.

„What do you think _he_ would want?“ Cullen asked and she snorted.

„ _He?_ To die, I suppose... Stupid stubborn idiot that he is!“

He almost had to laugh. „You’re probably right. But this won’t happen, I assume?“

Arya shook her head. „Never! There has been enough bloodshed already. I will not add on by striking more death sentences.“

„I respect that. I wish I had always the clarity you seem to have.“ He saw that she was about to object but shook his head slightly and with a smile as a sign that there was no objection necessary. „Just leave it like that, Arya. You do a good job here. Making so many different people work together in so many different ways. Made the Inquisition to what it is today. You really can be proud of you.“

Now she shook her head anyway, almost not believing what she just heard. „Really, Cullen? I come here and break your heart and you still flatter me? You are just too good for this world.“ She ran her fingers through his hair as she had done it so often but now she flinched when she realized that this should be no longer appropriate as it was such an intimate gesture.

His look was heartbreaking when she abruptly stopped touching him and clenched her hands in her lap as if to prevent herself from doing it again. „I'm not flattering you. It's just the truth.” he managed to say. Then: „But you are getting cold. Shall we go back?” he held out his hand to help her down from the wall and she took it, accepting his steadying hand. She realized, she stood too close when she felt the floor under her feet again but behind her there was the wall and so she could not get some distance between them without making it look and feel awkward.

„Cullen.” she began, not sure how to proceed and her pleading eyes made him want to take her into his arms and never let go off her. He was able to resist but he was not stepping back either. One last desperate try to win her back though he was already sure what the answer would be.

„Is there any way to convince you to come with me now and we never speak of this talk again?” he put his hands on her shoulders, feeling the fur of his own coat underneath his hands but he did not dare to do anything further.

Her gaze hardened. Not intentional but it was her only way to be able to give him at least an answer. „Don't make this harder than it has to be, Cullen please, I beg you!” and she finally managed to step aside and with the motion his coat slid down from her shoulders and left him standing with nothing in his hands but his own empty coat, looking all lost and desperate.

She felt the urge to take him back into her arms but she forbid herself. He deserved better than being pulled back into a spiral of false hope which was be the only thing she would offer by giving into his pleads.

„Are you sure you want it like that?“ he asked.

„No, I’m not.“ Her reply was not helpful but she would not lie either. „But I can’t go on like we were. It’s hard enough to handle all this Inquisition crap without all those feelings. I need to step back for a while and just see that I get my job done.“

He straightened his back. „You don't have to do this alone.”

„Right now, I have. But thank you Cullen, I appreciate your offerings. But I shall better go now for the sake of both of us.” her voice was almost lost in the howling wind and she watched his shoulders drop.

„Maybe you are right. Have a good night, lo… Arya.” His head sank down until his chin met his chest. She hurt seeing him like that but she knew that there were no words in this world to ease his pain.

„Good night, Cullen.” and she turned towards the staircase and left the battlements without looking back. Though he did not want to see it he watched her leave. He knew from her beaming shoulders that she was crying. And he kept telling himself that it was only the wind that brought the tears up into his own eyes.

*   *   *

Cullen did not know exactly when and how he got back into his office and up the ladder to his room. Vaguely remembering that suddenly there was Cole walking him back, telling him words that soothed him in a strange distant way. He could not remember what it was but at least Coles words made him leave the cold spot at the battlements. Later the boy was gone and he was alone again. Still his coat in his hands. He put it away, resisting the urge to bury his nose in it to get a last glimpse of her sweet scent. Slowly he undressed himself and slipped under the blanket though he knew he would not find any sleep.

All alone. Cullen felt like he was the loneliest person in the world. Everything was empty and numb and he not even wished he could change that. He had been able to stay reasonable as long as she was with him up there in the cold, breaking his heart.

He had been such a fool. From the beginning. Never he should have given in to his feelings. Agreeing to the odd things she had to offer. Nothing whole. Only the glimpse of what he desired to have. Shattered parts and leftovers. He should have known better that he would be never the _one_ for her.

It had always been _him_. The traitor, the liar, the betrayer. _He_ had been always more to her than he ever could be. Blind fool that he was, he had ignored it. Always the hope that through some kind of miracle she would turn to him. He would even had accepted a constant menáge a trois. But in fact this had never been in question and no one had ever promised otherwise. It had been always his own wishful thinking that maybe one day he would step out of the shadow and stand beside her as her man.

She would never come back to him. Even if there was no way with Rainier. An honorable decision, maybe, but he failed to understand the sense in this honor.

Cullen did not cry. He did not yell. He was just embracing the emptiness by staring through the hole in his roof. He wondered how he would get up in the morning and see after his duties. Did it even matter?

He thought about Lyrium but he could not bring himself to get up again and climb down the ladder to look for the box he still kept hidden in one of his drawers.

It did not matter anyhow because he stayed in bed, petrified and unable to move, but he wouldn’t have found his Lyrium anywhere because Cole had taken it out. The boy had carried it straight over to Cassandra.

*   *   *

The Seeker jumped from her sleep with a terrified shriek when the boy suddenly appeared in her quarters. „Maker, Cole!“

„Blue. So much blue. Like a heavy stone. Help. I can’t help.“ Cassandra was alarmed. Cole would do weird things but never waking her from sleep for no reason.

„Calm down, Cole. Tell me what is bothering you.“ She wrapped her blanket around herself and headed to her wardrobe to dress properly. While she did, she continued inquiring. „Do _you_ need help, Cole? What happened?“ The boy did not answer, instead he was turning Cullens Lyrium container around in his hands as if it was an alien riddle box. When Cassandra recognized what Cole had in his hands she was alarmed even more.

„Is Commander Cullen all right, Cole?“ She asked.

„No, he hurts.“ Cassandra was not naïve. Though Arya and Cullen had kept a low profile lately most of the Inner Circle was aware that there had been something between them. Cassandra had watched it from a distance but with an opinion. After the _Rainier incident_ she had even supported the growing relationship. So now the first thing that came to her mind was: „Maybe you should ask the Inquisitor to help instead of me.“

„No. She hurts, too. I wanted to help but she send me away to help Cullen instead. All is blue. And black. Words like stones. A candle burning down. Will not speak.“

Cassandra understood near to nothing but Cullen was her friend and obviously there had been some incident with Arya. The Seeker made a disgruntled noise and decided to check on Cullen.

Last thing, the Inquisition needed were relationship issues and drama of love and jealousy.

„Thank you Cole. It was the right thing to come to me and bring me this.“ She pointed at the box in Coles hand. „I will go and see Cullen now.“

„Did I help?“

Yes, Cole. Thank you. Go and try to find sleep now.“

„I’ll try. But the sadness is so loud tonight.“

Cassandra sighed. „Yes, I can think that.“

 


	18. 61 days after la grâce de la veuve – Skyhold – words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few talks during the last days when now finally the judgment of Thom Rainier is scheduled.  
> Featuring the Advisors, Varric and Cassandra.

 

* * *

 

It was like Josie and Leliana were facing a dêja vu when they arrived for the war table meeting this morning. Cullen looked almost sick and devastated and the swollen face and red eyes of the Inquisitor told about a night with less sleep and plenty of tears.

Aryas eyes were on Cullen whenever he did not notice it. She frowned a lot but she didn’t say a word. She knew it would be pointless because nothing she could say could give him comfort.

He avoided to make eye contact with anyone just waiting for work to be done and orders to be given. Working down his schedule was what kept him going. Later he would have to go outside to train some recruits and he already knew that the plain daylight would hurt his eyes and the voices in the sparring area would increase his headache that kept creeping up from his spine like a net over his skull and manifested as a piercing pain behind his eyes. In the morning he had found out that his Lyrium box was gone and for a moment he had been furious. Suspecting everyone lurking in the shadows to trick him and steal his possessions. This was the first moment after what happened he had been really agitated, yelling and grunting and hitting his fist against the wall for several times. When he became calmer after a while he almost was thankful because who ever might have taken the box, had helped preventing him from possibly making a wrong decision in a moment of weakness.

It sounded odd but he could accept Aryas decision better when he saw that she suffered, too.

She had never chosen the easy path. Not when she was all new into the Inquisition and seemingly careless about anything but her own survival and surely not later when she so desperately tried to find a balance between her heavy deeds, her own desires and the wish to take care for the ones she loved. Maker knows, he had tried to be mad at her. Hate her. Making her responsible for his suffering. He couldn’t. It was his doing, too. He should have stayed away and not giving in into dreams and fantasies of a love that could not be.

_Would he ever learn?_

Suddenly Cullen realized the silence and he felt tension building up in the room. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck while he tried to focus again. Three pairs of eyes were on him, obviously waiting for something.

„Are you alright Commander?“ Josephine asked and her eyes were soft and friendly and she frowned in worries.

„Yes, yes. I am fine.“ He replied and everyone saw it was nothing but a professional lie. „Just a bit short of sleep but thank you for your concern. What was it again you just asked?“

„Oh sure, Commander you should seek a bit rest.“ Josie managed to find the exactly right tone that he felt soothed and not as if he had done something wrong by not listening. „We just wanted to know if it fits your schedule if we announce the Judgment of…” she hesitated as she stumbled over the still unfamiliar name. „Thom Rainier at midday three days from now.“

Cullen almost choked on a bitter laughter but he won’t allow himself such weakness. The sooner the better and though it did not matter anymore when and how this would be done he knew this nightmare must come to an end soon for the sake of his sanity. But he kept his voice in control and just nodded with an unmoved face.

„It is noticed, Ambassador. I’m glad that we finally come to a solution with this... _incident_. We have enough other pressing matters that need our full attention.“

„Good then.“ Aryas voice was hoarse. „I’ll retreat with my paperwork into my rooms. If any of you needs anything.“ Her eyes pierced the war table while she was forcing herself not to look at Cullen. „You can find me there. Good day.“ And with this she piled up papers and reports on her arms and turned to go with no further greetings. And after she had been gone finally they realized that no one had asked how she intended to judge over Rainier.

* * *

Those rogues always found a way to sneak in. This time he hadn’t even heard the door.

„Hero!“ a friendly voice with an almost cheering undertone in the twilight. No reply. „It’s been a while. Thought you don’t mind some company.“ Varric stepped closer to the bars and nodded friendly but the man in the cell did not even looked up.

„If you came to catch plot for a new story you’ll find none.“ Rainier muttered and Varric laughed. The sound was so strange in his ears that he finally raised his gaze and watched the dwarf laughing. „What’s so amusing Master Tethras?“ he asked dryly.

Varric leaned himself casually against the bars.

„You, to be honest.“ He replied now serious again. „Don’t overestimate yourself here. This whole affair may have potential, but this trope isn’t a whole new thing to be honest. All this tragic hero business is fine but it definitely would need some work to make it a bestseller.“

Rainier snorted. „I am no hero. I’m a murderer. A traitor. And worse. But never mind. I’d rather would prefer not to become a part in one of your stories.“

Varric shrugged. „This I cannot promise but don’t you worry, now that you finally added some depth to your character it could finally turn out to be rather entertaining.“

„I already told you that I do not wish to appear in one of your works.“ He sighed. „But I assume I have no saying in that either.“

„As you say.“

„Why are you here, Varric?“ Rainier sighed.

„Checking on a companion? A friend?“

„As if anyone would call a monster like me a friend.“

Varric smiled. „You would be surprised how many of us actually do, no matter what you call yourself.“

„It does not matter anymore. The man you thought you knew is gone. There’s only a traitor now waiting for his punishment. And as I see it, the mighty Inquisitor has chosen to forget about me in here instead of doing what has to be done.“ Rainiers voice was hoarse when he raised it in frustration.

„I don’t think you’ll have to face eternity in that cell.“ Varric moved his head from one side to another with a knowing grin and turned to leave with a greeting nod. „Since a little bird sang to me that in less then three days your trial is scheduled you should prepare yourself to see sunlight again.“

Varric could almost watch how Rainier relaxed. This news must have been a huge relief for him after all this time. Nevertheless the warrior could not bring himself to thank the dwarf for bringing him that news but Varric was not angry. Guilt and isolation tend to be a dangerous combination.

* * *

„Inquisitor, may I have a word?“ a dark and warm voice from behind. Not unfriendly but still with a demanding edge. Arya turned half around already one foot on the perron that led from the yards to the grand hall. If she was surprised she did not show. Cassandra Pentaghast usually never initiated conversations let alone calling after people to speak with them.

„Cass.“ Aryas face was telling from a lack of sleep and too many tears. Her eyes missed their usual vivid sparkling and even the sophisticated makeup she had put on could not hide the dark circles under her eyes and her pale skin. But she managed to smile now when the tall dark haired woman approached her with fast steps. „Good to see you. But when will it finally be Arya instead of Inquisitor? Now we are friends for so long?“

„Excuse me, of course you are right. But sometimes it’s still a wonder how far we have come together and I feel so happy to call you my friend.“ Cassandra hesitated.

„But?“ Arya smiled an encouraging little smile when she felt the reluctance.

„I’m worried.“ Cassandra began and Aryas eyes darkened.

„There is no need.“

The warrior stretched her back.

„Listen Arya. I’m your friend. But also Cullens. I’m not blind. You two were very discreet so others may not have noticed it but I just _knew._ To be honest I embraced the idea of you two finally being together after the betrayal of Thom Rainier came to light.“ She almost spat out the name but her voice became soft again when she resumed. „I felt it was a good thing for Cullen to find some love. May I ask what went wrong?“

„And may I ask how do you know that something went wrong?“ Arya replied just a hint of snappiness in her voice. But Cass understood that she was walking on thin ice with her question.

„I will speak open, Arya.“ An announcement, no ask of permission. „I’m disgusted by this man Rainier. What he did in the past I despise as much as I hate what he did to you and the Inquisition. He betrayed not only you but endangered our whole organization.“

„It’s your right to think of him what ever you want.“ Aryas expression hardened but her voice remained calm. „I don’t ask you to be his friend anymore. Only thing I ask of you is to respect what ever decision I’ll make in this case. In your opinion Cullen might be the better match but it would not be right to stay with him. You must understand that I love this man and what we had, no matter how he calls himself. And I will love him always a bit more than I will be able to love Cullen.“

„But he... _betrayed_ you!“ Cassandra was baffled.

„I know what he did. And he will have to stand and face me for it, believe me. Nevertheless I am convinced that he deserves a second chance. He has changed and his will to become a better man had proven to be genuine even before he joined the Inquisition. I respect that. The rest and what becomes of our relationship is still undecided.“ The two women continued to wander through the yards. Cassandra was clearly torn apart. Between her faith in the Inquisitor and her wish to protect another friend. „Cullen loves you.“ She stated, but realized that this may not be the point.

Arya sighed. „And I love him, too and he knows that. Not that it makes it any better now. Anyway it would not be fair to continue as it was. Trying to love both of them equally and as much as they deserve it. It would be torture for all of us.“

Cassandra looked puzzled. „But you just told me that you don’t know if your relationship with... _Rainier_ will continue. Yet you already ended your romance with Cullen. I don’t understand?“

She looked up to Cassandras face. „Look Cass, I want to be with... _Thom_. But I don’t know if it is possible after all that had happened. Having a nice plan B to keep my bed warm sounds nice but is not what I truly want. And what Cullen deserves.“ The warrior looked into Aryas eyes, finally understanding what her friend was trying to tell her. „You may blame me for starting this thing with both of them back then when we began building up the Inquisition. If I messed up it was then. Not now, that I try to put things back to order.“

The Warrior nodded. „You may be right. It’s your burden to know always that you broke Cullens heart.“ Cassandra could see that she did not tell anything new to the Mage.

„Have you talked to him? Cullen I mean?“ Arya asked with a weary tone in her voice. Cassandra nodded.

„Basically I check on him if he stays away from the Lyrium.“ She shrugged. „Of course I see he is suffering from sadness but what else can I do but offer talk and my friendship. He still refuses. Wants to stay in solitude. Maybe one day he'll be wanting to open up until then I provide him with visits, hot beverages and already gave order to the kitchen that they have three meals for him every day. I will seek someone who will be in charge to watch over him that he eats them properly.“

„That is a good idea. Please don’t think bad of me. Ending this relationship does not mean I don’t care for Cullen.“

Cassandra nodded but there was still a frown on her face. „Maybe it’s just because I don’t understand. We are so very different when it comes to...“ Arya would not have believed it if someone had told her, but she saw with her own eyes: Cassandras cheeks became rosy and her ears pink when she blushed. „I mean you seem to be so free... comfortable will all kind of physical... I mean...“

„Sex?“ Arya grinned.

„Yes!“ Cass was relieved that it was out. She loved to read stories of love, passion and lust but when it came to herself she was always careful and reluctant, not easy to trust and never be seen being flirtatious or easy to approach. A part of her admired Arya for being the way she was but at the same time Cass was sure that she never could be the way the Inquisitor was. Using her assets or her bluntness as a weapon or an instrument to lead. Or so seemingly free. But Arya shook her head.

„Don’t overestimate it. As you see, it can mess up your life pretty bad.“

Cassandra could not help but a little smile appeared on her face and for a second the serious woman looked almost girlish. She eventually stopped walking and turned towards Arya and they embraced another in a gesture of trust and friendship.

„Just be careful, my friend. A lot is at stake and we need everyone at their best...“ she sighed. „Even Thom Rainier.“

 


	19. 64 days after la grâce de la veuve – Skyhold – Judgment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya Trevelyan has broken up with Cullen and now she is sitting on trial over the other man she still loves: Thom Rainier, formerly known as Warden Blackwall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm following the Judgment-Dialogues from ingame up to a point. I took the freedom again to make it deeper, and maybe more realistic because the Judgment ingame always left me with questions, not to say unsatisfied.
> 
> Also I splitted the Judgment into two parts for several reasons, so there will be no final conclusion here but in the next chapter. You'll see why it makes sense in my context.
> 
> I hope you'll like my approach to this cruicial scene of my favorite romance as much as I do. Please let me know what you all think. This and the two upcoming chapters are about the most important to me that I've ever written.
> 
> ENJOY!

* * *

 

He still tried to realize what just had happened when the guards released him from his shackles. Had he been standing here in judgment for minutes? Hours? Days? He could not say. The passed weeks if not to say months of darkness, torture, isolation and guilt centered brooding still made it hard for him to sort out thoughts and dealing with so many information that seemed to hit his brain all at once. Still constantly messing up past and present, dreams, memories and reality, but there was this one thing that kept echoing in every corner of his mind.

_Free to atone._

Today everything had happened so fast and incredible slow at the same time, like they had been caught in one of those weird time magic things again. First he seemed only to be able to recall the most peculiar things: The colored windows behind her and how they had reflected the sunlight on her black hair in all the colors of the rainbow. Or the fact that she had put on armor for judgment, as if she needed to protect herself. The sadness in her violet eyes. The crack in her voice when she spoke.

, _You need to think harder!'_ he told himself when he realized that his thoughts got blurry again. ,Y _ou have to remember!'_

He moved his hands carefully. Clenched and released his fists, grabbed around his wrists and drew circles with them, slowly first and hesitant, a little more determined when he felt the relieving pain of possible movement again, he stretched and wiggled his fingers. His wrists were still more or less open wounds, infected and the already healed skin remained in a darker shade than the rest. He would have those marks forever. A steady reminder on who he was and what he had gone through on his weak attempts to atone.

The crowd was already dissolving while he was still standing there, still trying to recall every detail of what had just had happened here:

_His trial_.

Arya sitting in judgment over him. Him, the traitor, the murderer, the monster. Him, the man she had once given her heart so careless and free. Him, who still loved her with so much desperation but no hope to be ever loved again the way it was before his betrayal. Him that he was not sure how to even tell her what he still felt for her.

He knew – way back in what seemed to be a million years ago, she always had despised sitting on trial and he hated that he now had been the reason for one.

It had never been the judgment itself. She had no problem with making decisions. But she hated sitting there in front of people, all in the name of displaying as much power as possible. She was a warrior more than a politician. She preferred ruling with her spectral sword at hand over a quill - she always had left that happily to Josephine when ever possible.

Now slowly, bit by bit, like a mosaic of voices and emotions the memories of what just had happened came back to him.

Ambassador Montilyet had opened the trial by announcing him. First this dreadful name that he hated so much and a well placed hint on the expenses the Inquisition had in order to bring him here. Arya had silenced Josephine with a sharp look and she had stepped back with a little elegant bow and not going into further details about his name or the crimes he had committed or anything else.

The crowd, like always, had been eager to witness drama and things to gossip about. Arya had obviously not been willing to provide that. She had even kept her voice low when she addressed him before she officially opened the trial. Telling him how hard all this was on her. „Harder than expected” were her words and he had literally seen that it was the truth. It was not polite to say that over a lady but she looked horrible. Tired and sad, clenching hands in her lap and he had been instantly feeling even more miserable because he was the one responsible for her suffer.

„Another thing to regret.” he had managed to answer in the same low voice but he had not been able to look into her eyes.

He had taken the word again before anything else could happen. Inappropriate most likely, but he had questions lingering dark and pressing on his mind. He had to clear his throat before being able to talk loud enough to be heard: „I learned that another man had to die in my place. Had there not been enough bloodshed on my behalf?”

Almost he had forgotten how intimidating Arya could be just by raising an eyebrow and pressing her lips together to a thin line. If she had been looking weak and insecure a moment ago now she showed the crowd - and him - the strength she held within that had always proven her quality as Inquisitor. Her back suddenly straightened and she lifted her chin. When she replied she looked directly into his weary eyes:

„I wish there had been another way but my options were limited.” she was telling him and there was ice in her voice. This had been the moment his emotions broke free. Still too much stubbornness inside him to just let this go off with no further comment:

„You could have left me there!” He blurted out. Telling her and all the people listening that he had been ready to die, that he had accepted his punishment. The same words he had told her when she came to see him in prison and the same words he had told himself thousands and thousands of time. So often that it finally had sounded so familiar, so _right_ …

And yet, now that he was standing at Skyhold again, out of prison, seeing the sunlight, breathing fresh air, seeing _her_ again…

The faint hope of atonement that had always lured deep down below, buried under feelings of guilt and unworthiness – it surged back up immediately. He always had kept fighting it down by insisting that he deserved and accepted death. Part of him still believed that: Not deserving any better and unworthy of redemption and good things in his life.

But most of it all he felt _fear_ creeping up his spine when he tried to imagine what it would mean to him and his Maker forsaken life if this distant hope of freedom and atonement would come true. A breathtaking, all consuming fear of having a life not worth living. He felt not able to handle that fear, so he kept repeating the only solution he had found yet to his dilemma: Death! As he had repeated it endless times to himself because everything else scared him too much. Wanted everyone – including himself – to make believe that his dead would be the only possible punishment and that he accepted to die.

_Why?_

The question that had haunted him all this many weeks and to which he never had been able to find an answer. _Why had she come after him?_ Coming to the rescue of an already dead man. His soul was already doomed. He kept denying that there was any other option but death. How should he live on with so much guilt upon him?

He hated how his voice held fear and desperation when he asked her what now should become of him.

If there had been the never fading background noises of a big crowd, now suddenly the Grand Hall had fallen so silent, he was sure everyone now would hear his heartbeat and his rattling breath fasten fearful while waiting for her reply. He heard his own blood rushing in his ears and he clenched his shackled hands into fists in order to hide them trembling.

He had confessed that he literally did not know how to live on with his guilt anymore. What would she reply? What _could_ she reply in order not to lose her face as a leader.? Tolerating weakness was no option. Or keeping traitors within her troops, not to speak about her Inner Circle.

But Arya Trevelyan have always had a mind of her own and especially when it came to unconventional decisions. And going with what she decided and wanted to be right.

„You have your freedom.”

The crowd gasped and he felt like fainting.

_Did she even know what she was asking of him?_ She made it sound it so easy. It was not. There _must_ be a twist.

„It cannot be as simple as that.” He managed to reply.

„It isn't.” she shook her head. Sadness in her eyes.

He realized that he could just leave. And that she was aware that he could turn on his heels and walk out of the Grand Hall, out of Inquisition and out of her life. It was a tempting idea. But just for the blink of an eye. Because it would mean a life without her. So there was no option for him.

Yet what she was offering would not be an easy task and she made it clear when she resumed to speak: „You are free to atone as the man you are. Not the traitor you thought you were or the Warden you pretended to be.”

He must have been staring at her, not able to respond. She was tearing down and taking away _everything_! And expected him to rebuild his life from nothing.

The fear was back, hitting him right in the guts, leaving him speechless, not able to move a limb.

„It…” he began, hating the crack in his voice and cleared his throat in order to collect all the little shattered pieces of strength remaining within. If _she_ still believed in him, it _must_ be possible to find a way for him to do it, too. „It will take time. You...” he tried to find the right words. He would not be able to do all this without her, he already knew that. „You would accept that? And… what I used to be?”

Arya nodded. But something was missing. Right in this moment she was not the woman he loved but his superior. His leader. „You have proven your worth to the Inquisition. The time you need for yourself to atone is granted. Just keep in mind, that the Inquisition… _we_... still need you.“ She had gotten up and stood tall now in front of her throne.

He did not know what to do with this freedom given to him. Without her, he realized, it was nothing - but she had spared no personal word. He felt that he needed to address her again, craving for a word from Arya, speaking to the woman and not to the Inquisitor.

„My lady...” he began, taking a deep breath to find the courage to speak about his feelings. Her eyes went soft on him. She knew him so well. She just _knew_ what he was about to do. He was ready to strip down emotionally in front of all those people, talking of love and his feelings.

But she saved him from doing that: „We may discuss any further matters regarding your relations to the Inquisition and your atonement another time. Feel free to find me at my desk when ever you can spare some time. So if you'll excuse me now.” her piercing eyes addressed the whole crowd still remaining in the Grand Hall, still waiting for spectacle and drama. The soft and caring glance had been just for him. „Other pressing matters require my attention and after this is settled I declare the court closed for today.”

When her eyes found his again there was pain. And love. One corner of er mouth raised almost unnoticeable for the glimpse of a second but he noticed.

His throat was tight. There _was_ hope. He had no idea how and why but suddenly it was there.

He realized that he still was standing in the middle of the Grand Hall. The crowd was long gone and so was she. She would wait for him to resume the trial in private as it came to their private matters. He would have to go to her soon but he realized that he had no idea how he should approach her. Now what to say and what to do after she had gifted him something he had not wanted anymore because it had seemed to be too hard for him to deal with it: His life.

* * *

It had taken a long time and it had been hard and not always fair for everyone involved. But now finally, Arya Trevelyan had made a decision. And finally she was sure now. About what was the right thing to do. And about what she _wanted_.

She felt relieved and stressed out at the same time.

Seeing _him_ again after all this time. Seeing him captured within his own doubts and fears and still not accepting the good things he may have accomplished already; all this had been incredible hard on her. It was going to be a lot of hard and painful work. For him. And for her being with him - if he still wanted to be with her - as he had to learn to accept himself with all his doubts and guilt, she would have to overcome things, too. He had lied to her. Showed an alarming amount of distrust when he should have trusted her. This was way harder for her to accept than the crimes which made him feel so guilty. But she was already sure she could forgive him one day.

But _he_ would probably need so much time and she was not sure if the Inquisition had this time.

Yet the urge to run over and drag him into her arms was so strong. But she had not allowed herself to do it. Not in public. He deserved better than becoming a spectacle for the masses more than he already had.

She had left it all to him now.

To decide what he wanted to do and who he wanted to be. He could just walk off the keep and never be seen again. She would accept his decision no matter whether he would decide to leave or to stay. She also had left it to him making the next step.

Talking about their personal relationship whether there was still one or not should not to be witnessed for the entire court.

The day she broke up with Cullen had been the day she began to decide what _she_ wanted, but she could not force her will onto Thom Rainier. He would have to decide for himself and in order to do so he would have to come over and talk to her.

Maybe it all had been an illusion. A lie? It was so easy to put this word into the game now after all that had come to the light but she stuck to the hope that everything would come to a good end.

 


	20. 2 days after judgment – Skyhold – Free to atone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second part of the Judgment-Dialogues. Arya and Thom Rainier/Blackwall still don't know what the future will bring. Will they stay together or will their love come to an end. They will have to talk it over and they do it as people should reasonable talk about such important matters: over a good and hearty meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always strongly felt that this part of the judgment/revelations arc should happen in private. The more in this special constellation (even though Cullen is only mentioned briefly). Both have their fears and issues they need to address to be able to make their decisions.

 

* * *

 

**2 days after judgment – Skyhold – Free to atone**

„My lady.“ He stepped out of the shadow of one of the tall pillars in the Grand Hall. His face remained motionless. The whole man more stone than flesh. Stiff and insecure he approached her as she was on her way from the war room to her chambers. It was close to midnight and she wondered for how long he might have been standing there, waiting for her to pass by. „A word, if you can spare the time?“ he even implied a courtly bow. Arya smiled. More from being insecure herself than from pure happiness. This was going to be the talk she had been afraid of all this time. She quickly made up her mind. Taking him to her rooms would be the easiest but she hesitated. Bringing him into the intimate privacy of her chambers felt too much, too soon. Placing him at her desk, next to the bed where they had made love so many times? Not to speak of the desk itself... Definitely more than she could bear right now. Taking a walk? Not calm enough.

She took a closer look at him. Tired and worn out. More grey streaks in beard and hair than she remembered. Both, beard and hair, still were way shorter than she ever had seen it on him and to be honest, she did not like it very much that way. His skin looked ashen and unhealthy and his grey eyes were still missing the sparks she knew and loved. He looked _smaller_ somehow. Seemed to float in his clothes.

„Let’s go down to the kitchen. I think we both can use a bite or two.“ She offered. Another small bow. He would have accepted anything, so the kitchen was as good as any place.

„As you wish.“

Their way through the staircases and tunnels of the keep was silent and awkward.

When they finally arrived down in the cozy belly of Skyhold with its rustling kitchen fires that never slept, she directed him to a small table somewhere at the side, where at times the kitchen helpers gathered to peel vegetables or have a short break. Light was dim and flickering as she pointed on one of the wooden chairs to make him sit. She feared he would have remained standing stiffly and full of awkward insecurity in front of the table if she had not offered him a seat.

Arya hurried away and found them some bread and stew. A few olives and tomatoes, some apples and pears for dessert and she set up a kettle to brew some tea.

„You don’t have to do this...“ he objected with a vague gesture that seemed to include everything and nothing.

„I’m hungry and you look like you could use some proper food, too.“ She replied and placed some mugs and the steaming kettle on the table between them. Her voice was calm but made clear that she would not allow objections about what was supposed to be good for his health and recovery.

„As you wish, my lady.“ He kept staring on the table, hands clenching around the hot mug as to get a grip on something to prevent them from trembling. His sleeves slid a bit upwards when he stretched out his hands to hold the tea and she could see how the skin around his wrists still was all raw and sore from the weeks of being shackled. Without thinking she grabbed one of his hands to have a better look. He tried to flinch but her grip was too firm to let him out. Carefully she inspected the wounds trying not to inflict any pain.

„You have to see a healer with that.“ She ordered. Her voice was soft but nevertheless it was an order.

„It’s nothing.“ He repulsed.

„That’s not for you to decide.” She cut him and he obeyed by saying nothing but showing a small nod before he continued to stare at the table.

 

They ate in silence and slowly the tension faded a bit. After a while she saw his chest lift and fall when he obviously took some deep breaths before he spoke.

„You cut me the other day. From asking what becomes of us.“ He finally began.

„I thought, our private matters shall stay private. I hope you don’t mind about this. Speak now if you still wish to.“ she replied with a slight smile.

„I just wanted you to know that I may have lied about who I was. Holding back about the things I did. But I never lied about how I feel. No matter what I was or what becomes of me right now I’m only a man with his heart laid bare. I leave it in your hands. And I would not have been ashamed to declare this in front of all Skyhold.“ Some defiance in his last words.

Arya decided to ignore his outburst andsipped from her steaming tea instead, hiding a little smile behind the mug. Finally she replied, serious again: „You were ready to die but I was not ready to let you go. Your place is here with me. Call it selfish but I am convinced that you didn’t deserve this death. You deserve to fall in a glorious battle a long time from now.“

The smile that let his beard twitch a little was so small but already gave a glimpse back at the man she loved and missed. But he became serious again way too fast. „But I don’t know how to love you as Thom Rainier.“ Desperation in his voice. Arya now sheowed her smile and took his hand again. This time he did not flinch.

„You said your feelings were true. Follow them, they will lead you right.“ Finally he looked up. Tired grey eyes, looking at her in disbelieve.

„You still want me?“ his hand in hers closed around her fingers in a careful attempt to hold her again.

A weary little smile curled one corner of her mouth.

„And you? Do _you_ still want _me_?“ she asked and his eyebrows rose in surprise.

„I cannot imagine anything in this world I want more, my lady. But...“ his eyes wandered around again, not sure how to put it. „I thought... you and the Commander?“ before she was realizing what she did, she took his hand that she was still holding, up to her lips and placed a soft kiss on the rough skin.

„It’s over.“ She saw how his brows furrowed and resumed. „I will tell you everything you want to hear about. But maybe not today? We all need time. All you need to know is that if we decide to stay together there will be no one else beside you anymore.“

He stared. Slowly processing what she was telling him.

„I don’t know what to say.“ He was finally able to reply.

„Then don’t say anything. We can speak about everything another day.“ she said and he remained silent for a while.

„Just like this?“ he finally asked, on his face still joy and fear struggling with each other and he kept on holding her hand as if it was his last rescue from drowning.

Arya shook her head. „It was a rough ride and we all need time to heal. Let’s do not rush things here.“

„Aye, my lady. What ever you say.“

Of course she had noticed how he had changed back to careful chivalry towards her. And on one hand it hurt her because she missed their usual playful sometimes even filthy tone between them but on the other hand she still felt unsure in his presence so it was more comfortable this distant way. It really was as if they would learn to know each other all from the start again. Carfully tiptoeing around trying not to break any of the fragile bits of trust they just tried to rebuild.

Meanwhile they had finished their meal and she began to cut one of the sweet pears into slices, handing him over the pieces on the knife with the strange intimacy they still shared after having meals together for so many times.

„I will leave soon.“ Arya resumed after another while of silent eating. „Back to Emprise du Lion. I will take Bull, Varric and Dorian with me.“ She saw that her words hit him harder than anything she said tonight.

„May I ask why you’ll leave me behind? Do you think you can’t trust me anymore?“ a slightly desperate tone took over in his voice. Since she had recruited him, he had been in every team she ever had assigned and now being left out after this episode must feel like a hit in the guts.

„It’s not like that.“

„Then why?“ he sounded stubborn now.

„Look at you! You had a hard time...“ she tried to reason but he didn’t let her even end her sentence.

„I can fight!“

„And you will. That I can promise. Give yourself this time to recover, please.“

„It’s my duty to protect you. Don’t keep me from that!“ he almost pleaded, obviously afraid that she would keep him in her ranks but not somewhere near anymore.

She looked at him and it was hard for both of them to maintain eye contact.

„All I ask you is to resume training first. I expect you to sparr with Cassandra. _And_ with Cullen.” he already opened his mouth but she shook her head and he closed it again. „No matter how hard this might get. Anyone else who is volunteering to get into the ring with you is a nice and welcome addition but I need you to gain back strength and agility in melee range. You will train your ass off, see the healers and eat proper food. We’ll be back in about ten weeks and I’ll personally check on you if you gained back what all this has taken from you. I won’t assign you until you recovered completely.“

He swallowed.

„This is hard, my lady. But I will not disappoint you.“

She smiled. „I know you won’t.“

Arya got up from the table and began to clean it up and he hurried to assist. She had become quiet and suddenly stepped from one foot to another trying desperately to hide some sudden nervousness. Piling up empty plates on her arms to hide her insecurity behind activity. She had one remaining question that lasted heavy on her and she felt awkward to ask. But she needed to know, no matter how painful the answer might be. So she finally stopped doing what she did and looked up to the taller man. When he became aware that she stood still, watching him, her breath fast and shallow, he put down the empty kettle he just had picked up and returned her look.

„My lady?“

„Do you have family somewhere? Children? A wife?“ her lips where pressed to a thin line and had already lost all of its color.

He slowly shook his head. „I never was married. To be honest, I never thought this was something I could expect from life, until...“ he didn’t finish the thought, feeling it not approriate, yet. Instead he resumed: „Especially after... _you know after what_..." He paused a moment, seemingly recalling episodes of the past for a brief moment before he resumed: "Children? I’m not aware that I ever left a woman with child, so no, no children that I know of.“

She nodded and got back on clearing the table. „Thank you for telling me.“

„Of course, dear.“ Again this little chivalrous bow that showed how distant they still were.

 

This informal meeting was over and she saw that he fought with himself to say something and she gave him an encouraging nod.

„May I walk you to your quarters, my lady?“ he finally asked with an insecure glance all stiff, ready to be rejected and only relaxing in relief when she smiled:

„I’d like that.“

The silence was more comfortable now when they walked up the stairs side by side. But it was still worlds away from what they once had. Arya sighed silently. This was going to be a long hard way for them both. When they finally stood in front of the door that led to her staircase she was torn between running off and just falling into his arms. But the first thing was rude and it was too early for the second. Seemingly he felt something similar because his hands were only doing some helpless gestures without any purpose before he managed to say:

„Good night, my lady. Sleep well... and thank you.“

She only nodded and was already half through the door when she suddenly turned around one more time. She almost had forgotten one last thing.

He had not moved one inch, was still standing in front of her door like a statue. When he saw her turning he stiffened even more, not knowing what to expect but waiting until she spoke.

„I really don’t know how I shall refer to you.“ She said and frowned. Her eyes were big and filled with some distant sadness that still made him feel guilty. He looked at her for a long moment. Then he took a deep breath.

„I've gotten used to Blackwall. I thought staying with it would be a good thing. Maybe we could treat it less as a name more as a title. Almost like Inquisitor. To remind me what I ought to be?“ He put it more like a question for her to approve and relaxed when she finally nodded.

„Everyone needs something to aspire to. So I think I can agree on that. _Blackwall_.“ The last word was spoken with a warm smile that went straight through his guts and deep into his heavy heart.

_There was hope!_

She was already gone when he finally was able to reply almost inaudible:

„Thank you, love.“


	21. 5 days after Judgment – Skyhold – aftershock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Judgment is over, everything should be settled and normal life at Skyhold should continue. But obviously it's not as easy as that... Hearts have been broken and wounds still go deep even between the lovers who claimed to stay together.   
> How does one deal with a lover who claimed to be someone else for such a long time?   
> How can love find it's way back into a living relationsship again...   
> Blackwall/Rainier and Arya had thought it would be easier, but it isn't.

 

* * *

 

The strong spirit had stopped burning in his throat a long time ago.

Sitting alone in the dark and drinking seemed to be the only thing that kept him from going mad. Did it really? Thoughts all blurry again. Hopefully he would pass out at some point like the two nights before. This was his goal for the third night. It would keep away the dreams of cold cells, shrieking rodents and masked faces but also it would stop his head running around the always reoccuring questions. And it would keep his fear at bay, at least a bit.

He should have been a happy man but he wasn't. He sat there by the fire of his cold and lonely workshop, cursing the world and himself. Three damn days (and nights) after she had hold his hand. Kissing his knuckles and taking him back despite everything he had done to her and the Inquisition.

She was his. Still. But what should have felt glorious, gave him a bitter taste in his mouth and a stale feeling in his guts instead.

_Where was she? Afraid to be seen with the traitor?_ Had it all been cheap talk, worth for nothing? He kept on ranting under his breath with a heavy tongue, talking himself more and more into a rage.

 

The glass slipped from his trembling hands and he was too slow to catch it before it hit the ground, going into thousand pieces. Just as his so called life long ago had been shattered by his own doing. He did not care about the glass, began to pour the liquor directly from the bottle instead. It did not matter anyway. No one saw what he did. No one cared. Who would have liked to share a tavern table with a man like him? A murderer, a traitor, a coward. He had hoped he would not have to be alone anymore after she had told him, that she still wanted to be with him.

_So, where the fuck was she now that he needed her so much_? Even worse, why in the Makers name would she leave him behind now that she was about to go into the fields again? Here on his own. Doomed to sparr with the Seeker, who most probably was angrier at him than all the others combined. And, even worse, Arya had ordered him to train with Cullen! He snorted deprecating.

_Cullen,_ of all people. The man who had almost stolen her from him... _or was it the other way around?_ His thoughts were already an unsorted mess. There was a vague memory that he had asked Cullen once to take care of Arya if ever would something happen to him. So how could he even be angry if the man just did what he had told him? Blackwall was confused and angry at himself and because he could not figure out anymore what really had happened he returned to his drunken self pity.

_Fuck!_ He could not even think about Arya and Cullen together without a helpless anger washing over him like a burning wave. Jealousy and pain and the fear of losing her - even now that she had told him it was over with Cullen. She had claimed to be his and his alone. But where was she to prove? He realized, that he missed her more than he wanted to admit. Her sweet touch, her teasing voice, her laughter, her courage, her love of life that seemed to be enough for both of them. Her dirty mind. The sex with her.

All he got so far was a careful leader, claiming but not taking. And now she was about to leave him behind for even more fucking time. Makers balls, he should be with her! Protecting her. _Fucking her_! Being her man again. Her lover, her companion, her protector. This was the only thing that would save him from drowning forever in guilt and despair. And in heavy liquor!

 

Before he realized what he was doing, he lifted himself up with a deep rumbling sigh. Joints were cracking and old and new scars were aching. He felt incredible old and weak.

The bottle was almost empty, he emptied the rest into the flames which rose for a few moments in blue and pink hungry flames and a rustling rush. He threw the bottle away. It didn't burst into pieces like the glass before but was rolling around, banging against wooden walls, waking up the mounts in the boxes nearby. He made a shushing noise putting his finger onto his lips in a drunken clumsy gesture and turned towards the doorway.

Even if he had been dead he would have found the way. His walk was insecure and faltering but never hesitant. He tried to put his messy hair back into some order and cursed nasty when he felt the streaks still way too short for his taste. And hers, he was sure. It had been such a stupid idea to cut it.

It was close to midnight and the yards were dark and deserted. A few silent guards, sleepier than they should have been but he didn't care to startle them. It was not his business. Not tonight.

He reached the perron which led up to the Grand Hall and began to climb it. Suddenly felt nausea rising up and he had to stop for a few moments when he arrived at the top stairs and stood still on the plateau in front of the massive doorway that led into the keep. Taking some deep breaths, inhaling the chill air of this night, before he finally opened the door and slipped into the Grand Hall. It was as deserted as the yards and he crossed the impressive room until he arrived at the little door next to the throne. Here, only a few days earlier she had been sitting over him in judgment as the mighty Inquisitor in all her glory. Tonight he was going to claim back her - not the Inquisitor but his woman! The liquor made him feel reckless and so he wasted no more time with doubts and entered the staircase to her chambers.

_Why by any means had Josephine put her into the highest tower of all Skyhold,_ he asked himself and muttered curses again as he began to climb the many stairs which would lead him to the last door that was between him and his love. When he finally arrived on top of the stairs, his breath came fast and heavy. Again his head was spinning while he felt some sickness rising in his stomach so he had to wait a moment before he felt able to proceed.

Of course the door was locked by this nighttime and so he began to knock. First still a bit hesitant but in all his frustration and at the same time feeling bold in his drunken mind, the knocks soon became loud and urgent and finally he began to shout her name with way too much desperation in his voice.

"Arya! Filly! Let me in! I love you!"

* * *

She had already been snuggling between cozy pillows and under the warm blankets with some last reports to read before sleeping, when the turmoil at her door began.

An obviously agitated and very drunk Blackwall was going berserk in front of her private quarters. Once in her life she was thankful that her rooms where so far away from everyone else so he would at least not humiliate himself while people could witness what he just did.

She was tired, still stressed out and had no sense for drama right now but on the other hand it was _him_ and she still cared for him too much to leave him with no reply or letting him be dragged out by guards. So she rolled her eyes, sighed deeply but got up finally. Wrapping herself into one of her woolen blankets because it was a cold night and she was sure it would take her a while to settle this.

Arya had no intention to let him in. The last thing she needed in her room, not even to think of her bed, was a drunken whining man right now. But she doubted that he would disappear so easy, considering the noise he was making out there. She decided to try with reason.

"Blackwall!" she said through the locked door. "You are drunk. Go to sleep! We can talk tomorrow."

"No, we can't." he rumbled back. She could not see, but his forehead was leaning against the wood while one of his fists was still hammering against the door. "I love you! You cannot leave me behind!"

She took a deep breath. So much desperation. So much fear beyond the drunken rambling.

She leaned her back against the door and let herself slide down until she sat on the floor, pulling her blanket even closer around and let her head sink down onto her bended knees, closing her eyes with all the sadness and resignation, even compassion. She tried not to cry. Tears had been shedded enough on this matter she didn’t want to ad on. But it was hard.

She had half expected something like this to happen sooner or later. After months of isolation, torture and stress now coming back, nearly everything had changed or seemed even lost to him, she could agree it was hard. Nonetheless she needed him back into his old form - body and mind - if she ever intended to put him back to duty. And she herself needed time, too. To accept, to forgive, to trust again.

Seeing him break down like this was hard for her and not only from a professional prospective. There was the man she loved breaking down in front of her bedroom. Part of her wanted to tear open the door and take him in but she knew it was not the moment.

 

She had seen him drinking. He usually enjoyed a tankard or two. Occasionally more and it had never harmed him so far. And she never got the impression it got out of hand with him. Maybe now? She could not risk that, would try to talk later about it. But first things first.

„I'm not leaving you behind.” she talked loud and clear to make sure he would hear her and maybe calm down on the other side of the door. „I already explained to you why I asked you to stay here this time.”

„You did not ask, you gave orders.” he ranted. „You don't trust me. And you are probably right.” He still blurted with a drunken voice but at least he had stopped hitting her door.

„Well, that's what I do, right? I assign my team as I decide it's the best use for the Inquisition. And beside that: If I would not trust you, I would have left you in Val Royeaux.” she declared with a cold voice and he snorted:

„You'd better have! What have I now left?”

„Your _fucking_ life!” Short and sharp like the snap of a whip and he almost flinched. But he was not to silence so easily and kept on shouting out all his fear and frustration.

„ _Great_! The life of a murderer. Of a traitor. No friends and the woman who claims she loves me won't even let me fuck her anymore.”

Her laughter sounded bitter, even through the door and the veil of drunken numbness. „You bloody bastard! Leaving me naked and alone after banging me in a hayloft? After lying to me for months and months about who you are? About your fucking name? About everything you are? And now you are accusing _me_ for not running back into your arms in the blink of an eye? How _dare_ you!” now, despite everything she had intended, tears were running down her face and she had jumped up because she could not calmly sit anymore. He was already shouting back his reply:

„How dare _you_?” he could not make himself stop from his drunken rage. „You betrayed me, _my lady_!” she was already about to cut him, but his words kept on rumbling out of his mouth and she had no chance to say anything. „You betrayed me for my _death_! Dragging me away from finding peace on the gallows. You _saved_ me. Now fucking take care for what you've saved oh, so selfless!”

Her voice held a distant thunder – or was it already a thunderstorm rising at the horizon? „You are a pathetic coward! Afraid to stand and fight to gain back what you have lost by your own fault. Whining for an easy way out to deal with unpleasant things.”

„What do you mean by _unpleasant things_?” he demanded to know. Well aware that her voice was thick from tears but he was not able to care right now.. „Imagining how you and mighty Commander make out while I rotted in a prison cell?”

„Fuck you, Rainier! You got yourself into this shit. Now fight to get out of it yourself, too!” The first time ever she had addressed him with his real name and his reaction was an almost primal growl and another slam against the door, so heavy it made cracking noises and Arya was literally shaken from the brute force that was given into this single hit.

Then there was silence. A long, disturbing moment of gravely silence.

 

„I… I don't know how...” almost frightening how sober he sounded from one moment to another. How sober and completely broken.

Her heart told her to open the door immediately and let him in. Into her room, into her arms, into her bed. Kissing and loving away all the pain and the bitter words and accuses. Holding him until he would calm down, giving him the peace he demanded from her so desperately.

But she didn't move. For once she decided not to go with her heart. He was drunk. Hurt. Scared. Had told her a lot of rude things in his drunken self pity, guilt loaded agitation. But she knew it would be not of any help if she kept him from fighting his own fights this time. He was so quiet now, the silence was almost frightening her.

„I'm with you.” she told him instead of opening the door. Her voice was thick with emotion and her face still was wet from her running tears. „But I can't fight your wars, love. I cannot win you back your friends. Or the life to desire to have. I can't claim back for you the respect they once showed you.”

„I know.” Calmer now. Resignation in his voice.

„Blackwall?” almost a question after a long silence.

„Yes, my lady?”

„I love you, too.”

„Then why don't you open the door?” almost pleading.

„It's too soon.” trying to keep it simple. Explanations would be fruitless.

„For what?” voice already rumbling again.

„For just everything. We hurt each other. Throw nasty things on each other after just too much crap during the last months.”

„I can't do this alone, Arya.” she could almost hear how hard it was for him to admit that.

„You aren't alone. I swear, you are not. Now, for Makers sake, please go to sleep!” Her voice was friendly but determined and made clear that there would be no further discussion and he understood that he should not insist any further.

After all he had found back some fragments of his self respect not to beg more than he already had. So she heard shuffling feet and finally his voice again:

„As you wish. I think I need to apologize.”

„Me, too, I guess. Let's do it when you are sober and we both had some sleep and time to calm down. And please…“ she hesitated.

„Yes, my lady? What is it you want from me?“ almost eager to have a task, something to do to please her.

„Stay away from the liquors. Don't make me have to restrict them for you at the ‘Rest’ and in the kitchen. I would hate that.”

„That won't be necessary.” he assured her.

„I know. Just stay safe. Good night, Blackwall.”

„Good night, Arya. Again: I'm sorry.”

He already felt the headache creeping over his skull and he cursed himself again for being a fucking idiot. He was sure he just had been lucky that she hadn't burned his ass with a lightning blast or simply buried her fist into his face. No question, he would have deserved both.

It was an amazing thing how fast one could feel sober and now he almost could not handle his own stupidity letting himself go so easily. Accusing her, approaching her as if everything had been only _her_ fault. A wonder she hadn't kicked him out after all he said. Completely and with no taking him back this time. He really would have to come up with a _real_ good apology tomorrow.

* * *

He has had some bad hangovers in his life. But this one was really one of a kind. Blackwall felt horrible for more than one reason. Sick from the alcohol was one thing, but feeling disgusted over oneself just by thinking about the things he might have said to the Inquisitor was even worse. He could only remember fragments of a conversation through a locked door and how they had thrown accusations at each other. He did not remember how and when he had left the tower but he had woken in the hayloft from a unrefreshing sleep filled with disturbing nightmares.

His stomach was empty so it was only sour liquor when he threw up outside the barn just after getting up. He tried to tame his still revolting stomach, his spinning head and the headache that were torturing him. The daylight was the worst. At least he thought it couldn't get any worse until some merchants began to yell at each other with jarring voices next to the stables. He suddenly felt like someone had stuck a knife directly into his brain and now slowly turned it around.

This was the moment Blackwall realized that he had to stop drinking on his poor attempts to numb his pain.

 

Later he sat on the pile of trunks he intended to chop into fire wood in the next hours. Would be a good training and he could make himself useful without having to talk with anybody. The warm sunlight was like soft caresses on his still bruised body and after being locked away in the darkness for so long he knew he needed to be outside as it would help him recover. Now he was just enjoying silence and solitude when suddenly he heard footsteps come closer. He did not open his eyes. He didn’t have to. Would have known those steps out of hundreds.

Only when the tempting scent of coffee hit his nose, he lifted one hand to shield his still vulnerable eyes from the bright sunlight.

Arya wordlessly held a huge steaming mug directly under his nose so he could inhale the tempting scent. She held a similar mug in her other hand for herself. Carefully he took the hot pot from her and clenched both hands around it as if he needed to warm up. She climbed on the trunk pile to sit beside him, not realizing she mirrored him as she took the mug between her hands just as he was sitting there, elbows resting on her thighs slightly bent over with a hunched back.

They had not spoken a single word so far but it was no hostile silence.

He could feel the up and down of her chest from breathing as she sat so close beside him their bodies slightly touched. And her breath went way faster than usual. His heart already began to beat faster, too. A soft breeze was enough to move her hair and carried her familiar scent over to him. It felt good.

From time to they took a sip from their coffee. He tried careful if his stomach would accept the strong, sweet brew. She had obviously added some spices as she used to prepare her coffee at special occasions. This was another thing that was still strangely familiar and made it easier to relax.

After a long time he suddenly felt her head come to rest on his shoulder. A little wordless gesture that meant the world to him right in this moment. Slowly, as if everything could be a dream, an illusion he might destroy if he was to hasty, he put his arm around her shoulder and let her rest as she was. After what seemed to be eternity he finally spoke. His voice was low and hoarse and barely audible but it was enough for her to hear and to understand: „I’m so sorry, love.“

She nodded and her answer was quiet and calm and simple: „I’m sorry, too.“

And both they knew that there was peace now between them and the time of healing could begin.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is what I call the conclusion of the Revelations for Arya and Blackwall. Obviously it is not the end because there is still a long road to travel and wounds that have to heal. It gives me the space to go on writing but I think I will do this in stand alone stories not longer related to the chronicles.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it (at least in parts). I will be more than happy to talk with you about everything. Answering questions and share my headcanons and ideas behind and beyond this.


End file.
